


Good Order and Discipline

by Succorelle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dubiously Incestuous relationship, Existential Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Military, Okay only sort-of Canon Compliant, Slow Build, but it's within the realm of possibility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 71,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1836316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Succorelle/pseuds/Succorelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody but a clone appreciates just how hard it is to be a clone. </p><p>Basically a retelling of The Clone Wars through the POV of CC-2224 "Cody" and CT-7567 "Rex", in particular focusing on their increasingly complex secret relationship. Come for the sexy Mandalorian shagging, stay for the angsty existential crises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am trying to keep the story as canon-compliant as I can. My information is pulled pretty much solely from the cartoon series – so apologies if I say anything hilariously inaccurate. Go ahead and point it out to me in the comments and I’ll fix it up if I can! 
> 
> One minor change I made: The 501st Legion is underneath the 7th Sky Corps, which makes Commander Cody Rex’s boss rather than his peer.
> 
> Later on what is canon may get swapped up a bit – some battles may come out of order, for example – in order to keep the story moving. For now, please enjoy this behind-the-scenes look at our favorite clone officers.

It began with a simple enough order: inspect all the outlying monitoring stations along the Rishi Maze. Thirty-nine outposts in all; even with a hyperdrive ring it would take just over six days to complete.

Cody lounged against the wing of the assigned starfighter. It was an older model, lacking most of the creature comforts newer models boasted: reclining seats, vibration dampeners, air conditioning…. Generally speaking, this was not a mission he was looking forward to. He had been half tempted to heft the assignment off on one his subordinates (it would be all too easy to claim that he had more pressing matters to deal with), but his owned damned sense of integrity stopped him. It wouldn’t be _right_  for a commander to shirk his duties, no matter how irksome they may be.

Cody sighed, letting his helmeted head lean back until it clacked against the wing. Almost a week out of the fight, away from his troops. General Kenobi promised him that things would be well in hand (“we’re hardly going to end up losing the fleet during a  _refueling stop_ , Cody!”) but still….

Around him the hangar was a noisy hustle, clones and droids chattering and going about their tasks with nary a glance in his direction. Cody felt himself in a bubble of silence, floating above a sea of action and momentum.

It had been ages since he last roughed it like this. Being aboard General Kenobi’s flagship the  _Negotiator_  as often as he was, he had grown used to having a personal bedroom and a private fresher, with hot meals three times daily. One of the few perks of being an officer. Out on the ground the troopers lived in tents and baked under desert suns or squelched through stinking marsh planets, getting their sustenance from protein bars when they weren’t being shot at by endless rows of clankers.

Footsteps made him quickly straighten up, hiding his momentary slouch. Another clone was approaching, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Cody’s eyebrow rose, recognizing the telltale blue collar, the jaig eyes pattern on the helmet. “Rex?”

The other clone ducked his head to remove his helmet. His face was dusty beneath; he’d clearly come straight from the front line. Probably checking on his troops one last time before handing off command. “Good to see you again, sir. Looks like it’s just us two this time.”

Cody was surprised to see his subordinate. If there were one clone he would have said was too valuable to pull off the front line, it would have been CT-7567. “Captain, how in blue blazes did you get stuck with inspection duty?”

Rex tossed his overnight bag into the plane’s tiny storage compartment. “General Skywalker thinks that I should take a little time off away from the new Padawan. I might have… somewhat overstepped my bounds in the last skirmish.”

The clone commander’s mouth curved into the beginning of a smile. “What did you do this time?”

Rex rolled one shoulder in a shrug – the faintest twitch of embarrassment. “She got too eager, made a call for the men to follow her straight into a cluster of heavy fire. Obviously something the men weren’t going to walk away from. Finally I had enough, so I got on the comm and told her straight-out, we’re not bloody Jedi, we don’t have magic blaster-repelling swords, and she was going to get her entire team killed. Sir.”

Cody shook his head, an incredulous chuckle escaping. That sounded like Rex, alright. “She’s new at this, Rex, not incompetent. You should go easier on her.”

“Yeah, well.” Rex threw his helmet into the pilot’s seat, and then hoisted himself after it. He clicked the harness over his shoulders. “Every superior sometimes needs a reminder to get their head out of their backside.” He leaned over the side of the cockpit, smirking down at Cody. “No offense, sir.”

Secretly, Cody was relieved at this turn of events. If there were one person he had to be stuck in confined quarters with for the better part of a week, Rex would be his top choice. The captain was quick-witted, loyal, brave to a fault, and never afraid to speak his mind. But more than that, Rex cared about his men. Cody had never seen an officer more concerned with his men’s welfare than the captain of the 501st Legion.

 While Rex busied himself with the pre-flight checklist, Cody performed one last walk-around. This busted hunk of junk was a deathtrap if ever he saw one. He ran his glove over one of the fuel tank lines. A patina of rust flaked off on his fingers.

_It’s official. We’re going to die in the vacuum of space._

Rex’s voice floated down. “All systems check out, commander. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Cody accepted the extended hand that reached down for him, pulling him up into the backseat. His own helmet stayed firmly around his ears, waiting for the inevitable moment when the junker finally buckled. The canopy slid shut around them with a pop and a seal.

At once came the hiss of recycled air. Rex flipped a toggle and the engines ignited. The ship wasn’t soundproofed well, either; a persistent rumble interjected into their conversation.

“Wow.” Rex fiddled with the controls. “I haven’t flown an old lady like this since our academy days. She might even be older than us, Cody.”

_Didn’t need to think about that._ “Still remember how to fly one of these?”

“Please. It’s like riding a bantha; you never forget.” He pressed a button to activate the flaps - only instead of flaps, the radio suddenly burst to life. Both men rocked back as dance music, cranked to full volume, blasted straight into their faces.

Rex slapped the button, dropping them back into merciful silence.

Cody stared at the back of Rex’s head. “Like riding a bantha,” he repeated.

“With a, um, slight learning curve.”

The commander’s head fell back against the headrest. A long-suffering sigh filtered between their commlink. “Please, just try to get us there in one piece. That’s all I ask.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, commander. You’re flying with the best pilot in the 7th Sky Corps.”

“You’re not even remotely close to-”

“Sorry, sir. Can’t hear you!” And with that, the captain pulled back on the sticks and opened the throttle. This was no sleek and silent Naboo cruiser, no flashy x-wing. It took off like a tauntaun being roused from its sleep: slowly, obstinately, and with a great deal of noise. The ship rattled as it finally separated from the ground.

As the starfighter eased out of the bay and into the absolute darkness of space, groaning at the sudden change in pressure, Cody finally dared to let out the breath he’d been holding. Still alive. He saw Rex turn his head, peeking at him out of the corner of his eye, and giving him a quick smile.

_See?_ _We’re fine._

Then the _Negotiator_ ’s gunmetal gray disappeared from view, replaced by a field of stars. Cody breathed in sharply; the sight would never fail to impress. Space was coldly beautiful – made ever the more so for how very deadly it was. Other fighters weaved around their ship, moving between the Republic cruisers that made up their fleet. Dead ahead was the  _Resolute_ , General Skywalker’s flagship.

Rex guided them into the waiting hyperdrive docking ring. From the backseat Cody linked up with the ring and entered their coordinates. “What’s our first stop?”

"Pastil post. Get comfortable, this is going to be a long one….”

\------

They both collapsed onto their beds at the end of the day.

This planet – it didn’t even have a name, just the numerical designation H25267, though locals called it “Dartooth” - was little more than a rest stop on the interstellar route, a forgotten mud-hole with a couple rickety trader’s ports built on stilts to avoid sinking into the sodden mass below. Everything on this planet smelled like a bog swamp, especially the inside of this rundown inn. No doubt mold was growing in every single corner.

Rex rubbed at his thighs, knuckling circulation back to them. “Eighteen hours in a cramped cockpit. I have never felt so glad that I’m a ground trooper.”

Cody circled the room, checking surfaces for bugs and tracers. This was still Republic space, but a forgotten corner of it. It was places like Dartooth that became breeding grounds for Separatists. He peeled back the blinds, peering in the crack between the windowpane and frame. “At least we’re not stationed at an outpost.”

“That’s no joke. Force alive, did you see the state of things at Mimis? Sub-freezing temperatures indoors, at high noon. The sergeant told me they aren’t allowed to use the fresher at night because everything just… freezes when it hits the air.” Rex enumerated with a gesture that made Cody’s insides shrivel up in sympathy.

“Remind me to send an engineering squad to their location. That’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on any brother.”

Rex pillowed his arms behind his head. His eyes followed the yellow-armored clone’s movements around the room: crouching, shifting furniture, running hands along wall seams. He felt exhausted just watching him. “Relax, Cody. There’s nothing here.”

“Just want to be sure.” Cody hadn’t even removed his helmet yet. The articulator warped his voice, removing that tinge of Coruscanti accent Cody had picked up working for Obi-Wan.

The sound of the articulator was familiar to Rex’s ears, but right now he was tired of listening to it. They were off duty. Rex needed a chance to get away from the war and the sounds of battle before he screamed. Just one night, even.

“You’re wound up too tight, Commander. Sit down and take off your armor already.” Rex eased himself upwards, fighting muscles that were already beginning to stiffen.

Punching in a button on his wrist controller deactivated the electromagnetic clamps holding his armor pieces together. He began to remove them, piece by piece, stacking them on the floor.

Commander Cody glanced one last time around the room. Outside rain was pelting the roof – the drizzle had started before they arrived and showed no sign of stopping anytime soon – and the sound was like the planet breathing. Bits of damp pooled in the corners.

But for all that, it was warm and spacious. The beds were firm, just how a clone liked them. And it was quiet.

Cody took off his helmet, and took a full breath of non-recycled air.

The first breath on a new planet was always something special. No matter how many planets he visited, Cody would never stop being amazed at the wonder and variety in the universe. The air here was humid, with an earthen taste to it. Not exactly pleasant, but wholly unique.

“Guess we’ll be safe tonight.” Rex flipped on to his belly, leaning over the side of the bed. He dragged his duffel bag closer. Cody could only see his shoulders as his head disappeared over the side to root through the bag. “Safer than in a battlefield, at least. I don’t know about you, but I plan to enjoy this trip.”

Cody tensed. “Your idea of  _fun_  generally leads to things exploding.”

“That’s wholly unfair, sir. Sometimes they just end up with bullet holes in them.”

Cody was about to ask what he had in mind when Rex resurfaced, holding a bottle of Corellian rum. He waggled an eyebrow suggestively.

Cody could only shake his head and laugh. Of course the Captain would find a way to smuggle booze with him.

“C’mon, Commander, I know you haven’t had a chance to enjoy a cold one on the  _Negotiator_. Join me in a toast?” He cracked the seal and fished two cups out of his mess kit.

Cody accepted the cup that was passed to him. Something about the strange quiet, the hush of the rain outside and Rex’s easy smile made him feel relaxed and at ease in a way he hadn’t since… Force, he couldn’t remember.

“To the Republic?” Cody asked, swilling the drink around. The strong fumes wafting out of the cup promised it was the same varnish-flavored swill they had drank as young troopers, sneaking into dive bars after call-to-quarters.

“Nah.” Rex loped his arm around the bed’s headboard. “To our brothers. Men of honor, men of valor, and the best damned soldiers this galaxy has ever seen.”

Cody raised an eyebrow. All clones shared the unique quirk of being able to raise their eyebrows individually. “I didn’t realize you had such a poetic soul, Captain.”

Rex cracked an insolent grin. “What can I say? I’m more than just a pretty face.”

Cody rolled his eyes, but Rex caught the hint of a smile lurking around his commander’s mouth. He loved making Cody laugh. The Commander was far too serious. Rex prided himself on being one of the few people who could actually make Commander Stick-In-The-Mud smile.

More often than not it was laughter at something horribly embarrassing Rex had just done, but still.

Cody lifted his glass, tapping it against Rex’s. “To our brothers, then.”

They both tilted the cups back and downed them.

The rum tasted exactly how it smelled. It burned all the way down like a handful of nails dipped in fire. Rex weathered it out like a champion, relishing the feeling of warmth spreading down his core. Sergeant Appo often dragged him out drinking, so the taste of low-quality liquor was hardly something new to him. He didn’t even wince as the burn reached its sharp peak.

Cody, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling. He came up red-faced and coughing, with tears springing to his eyes. “I think you might have gotten a bottle of motor oil by mistake, Rex old boy.”

Rex reached out and thumped him on the back. Cody’s shoulders shook in a coughing fit. “You didn’t used to be such an easy weight, Cody,” he teased.

Cody took a long gasp, forcing his coughing to subside. He wiped the water from his eyes. Rex’s hand remained on Cody’s back, warm and comforting even through the plasteel armor.

The scar over Cody’s eye crinkled as he frowned. When he spoke next, it was in the kind of voice Rex was not used to hearing from the commander. Quiet and desolate. “I used to be a lot of things.”

Rex didn’t know what to say to that. The words hung between them, a question mark sitting in the silent space between them.

He’d never been good with words; he was better with action. So Rex picked up the rum bottle and tilted it into Cody’s cup.

Cody understood what he was saying. He flashed a thankful look in Rex’s direction. This time he was careful to sip it slowly.

The warmth gradually returned between them. Easy banter, familiar as the training that had been programmed into them, resumed. Rex encouraged it, helped along with a generous portion of cheap Corellian alcohol. Before long he had Cody reminiscing over their training days, laughing over some of their more ridiculous antics.

“And how about the time we ordered a Twi’lek dancer for Alpha’s birthday?”

“Don’t remind me,” Cody groaned. “Bly was the only one who thought that was a good idea. None of us thought he would actually go through with it.”

“You can’t tell me cleaning the entire barracks wasn’t worth it just to see the look on that old clone’s face.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Cody protested, but his smile told a different story.

Cody’s wrist comm beeped, shattering the mood between them. He glanced down at it. The number  _2330_  flashed at him. “Damn. It’s getting late, and we’ve an early start tomorrow. We should probably clean up and hit the sack.”

Rex began to peel off his bodysuit. No sense in being uncomfortable when they could help it.  “Do you want to shower first, or shall I?”

Troopers did, in fact, own clothes – two pairs of regulation pants and shirts for every man - but most of them just lived in their bodysuits out of sheer convenience; they were comfortable, breathable, and could be battle-ready in less than eighty seconds. The downside, however, was that the suits absolutely reeked. Even with washing (which tended to be rare in the field), daily use promised those suits were more stain than fabric. Rex knew of at least one regiment that had all agreed to sleep in their skivvies rather than endure a room full of bodysuit stench while they were trying to get some shut-eye. (Oh, how their Jedi General had  _gaped_  when he walked into that barracks!)

Beside him, Cody hesitated. Rex noticed.

“Aw hell, commander, don’t tell me things are so cushy on your flagship that you’ve actually gotten shy about changing in front of a brother.” He crouched down to peel the suit off his thighs. “I can promise you, it’s  _literally_  nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Cody’s tanned face turned a shade redder. “Laugh it up, Rex.”

The commander grabbed a set of clean clothes from his bag and disappeared in to the fresher. Soon the sound of running water joined the overarching noise of the rain.

Wearing only his regulation briefs, Rex poured himself another drink.

Rex knew what the troopers said about Cody behind his back. He had stopped being one of ‘the brothers’ when he took command of the 7th Sky Corps. They respected his rank, but that didn’t buy a clone a lot of goodwill when they thought of him as the one ordering them to their deaths.

Never mind that Cody took every chance he could to hop on a gunship and join the fight in person. Never mind that Rex had seen Cody fighting vainly with the Generals for a better strategy, one that would mean fewer casualties. Never mind that he got his rank by proving himself in the field. Never mind that his face bore a tribute to just how much he cared for his men.

To the men it was always, “ _here comes Commander Cody. Better make ourselves scarce before he finds something for us to do._ ”

He couldn’t have disagreed with them more. They didn’t know the Cody he did. The Cody that he met back at the academy was a sass-mouthed and brilliant clone, a peerless fighter, a true friend. He was, and continued to be, Rex’s inspiration. Cody was a rock.

But command had changed him.

Truth be told, Rex worried about him sometimes. The way that every time they met up, Cody’s smile seemed just a little more reserved, his friendly banter just a little more forced. There were walls going up around the commander that were pushing out everyone.

Rex tipped his glass back and let the rum spill into his throat. With the burn still stinging his nostrils, he gave the fresher door a calculating look.

He was going to break those walls down.


	2. Chapter 2

Rishi Moon Outpost had been a tough one.

Rex closed his eyes, waiting for the medical droid to finish its scan. All but two of the men assigned to that station were KIA. The outpost was totally destroyed; they’d have to send in a unit to build a new one. The Separatist fleet had come dangerously close to invading Kamino.  _And_  he and Cody had managed to scuttle their starfighter.

(That last one might have been a good thing, actually.)

Blue light filtered through his eyelids as the scanner passed over his face. The medical bay was full, as it always was, with troopers fresh from the latest battle. Broken bones, infections, and rashes in areas best not mentioned were only the best of it. All clones had a basic understanding of medical care; on the cot next to him he could hear a man coughing violently, and the rattle in his chest indicated several broken ribs.

So many injured….

 _Focus on the big picture,_ he reminded himself. They had stopped the full-scale invasion of Kamino. A lot of good men were alive because of the sacrifice of Domino Squad. But it was hard to appreciate that fact when he had seen the look in the eyes of those two survivors. Fives and Echo.

Rex liked shinies. They were useless as all hell on the battlefield, but they were the only clones that still wholeheartedly believed in their cause. They carried themselves with the innocent bravado of men who had never seen their friends die.

Even more than Hevy and Cutup’s deaths, it was watching that innocence die in Fives and Echo that Rex mourned.

The medical droid withdrew its scanner. “Your vital signs are all clear, captain. You may return to your post.”

 “Thanks,” he muttered to the clanker.  Rex hopped off the table, grabbing his helmet. He didn’t mean to be rude, but - fight enough of them and you started to inherently distrust any rust bucket, regardless of whether it held a blaster or a scalpel.

 Still, it was nice being back. If anywhere could be said to feel like home, the cheerless steel-paneled corridors and drafty rooms of the  _Resolute_  were it. The ship was a giant colony of ants, with units moving purposefully in every direction: repair crews, maintenance, soldiers off duty looking for a snack. Everything was carried out with the same calm efficiency that Rex thrived on.

He stopped one of the off-duty soldiers as he passed. “Do you know where Torrent Company’s run off to?”

The clone jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Where else? Their home away from home.”

The practice room. Of course.

The practice room was familiar to every clone on board; it was a carbon copy of the simulation room back on Kamino. On top of that, Rex forced his men to spend at least five hours in there every week, drilling alone or as a team – to the point that it had gained its infamous nickname.

Many troopers would have seen it as excessive, but not Torrent Company. Someone had taken it on himself to set up a leaderboard with weekly prizes for the best shots. There were some men (Hardcase came to mind) that would log as many as sixteen hours in a single week just to win the prize, which usually ranged from a free weapon-cleaning to getting to use the _really_  big gun on the next mission. (Hardcase had logged twenty-one hours of sim time that particular week. Where he found the time, Rex had no idea.)

Rex squeezed through the nearest troopers, taking a place along the catwalk. The troopers moved aside with a deferent nod to their captain.

Currently Shadow Squad was on the floor. The ten men were lined up in perfect formation behind barriers. Their timing was flawless. Their aim was damn near perfect. Torrent Company consisted of twelve squads of ten men each, and every single one was of the highest caliber.

Of course, not every clone that came out of Kamino was such a good shot. There were entire units out there who could empty round after round at an approaching group of clankers and not hit a single one. General Quinlan Vos’ troops were infamous for being absolutely god-awful shots. It didn’t help that Vos refused to trust his men with delivering a pizza, much less securing a target.

Out on the practice floor, Shadow Squad destroyed the final practice droid, leaving them a clear path to the target. Around the catwalk the other squads applauded their success.

Only one more squad was left to run through the simulation. As Shadow Squad left the floor with smiles and fist-pumps, Havoc Squad replaced them. Including its two newest members, Fives and Echo.

Rex leaned his elbows on the railing. This would prove interesting.

Havoc Squad’s simulation booted up with a hum and a whir, droids straightening up and lifting their guns. Wall sconces swiveled into position. Rex recognized the formation: number thirty-two, a straightforward battle sim that turned nasty halfway through. He’d been pinned by it more than once in his cadet days.

The squad formed up just behind the starting line. Ten brothers stacked close, guns held tight to their chests, waiting for the signal. A moment of hush descended.

Jesse raised his hand. He signaled, and the troopers streamed into the simulator.

From the moment Havoc Squad advanced into the simulator, it was clear that Fives and Echo were nowhere near the level of the other members. They were sloppy, failing to maintain full awareness of their surroundings. They left gaping holes in their defenses. Echo in particular seemed to be hanging back, uncertain in the face of the hectic situation. 

Havoc swept out into the field in a wedge formation. Hardcase led the way, his guns cutting a deadly – and accurate – swath through the middle. (All that extra sim time had paid off, it seemed.) The others stayed close; so far, so good. They bunkered down against a barricade, closing in tight together.

Up in the catwalks, the troopers were providing running commentary. “The new guys are holding the squad back,” pointed out one of the guys from Charlie Squad.

“Hey,” his friend chided him. “We were all there once. Give them some time.”

They were right, though. Fives peeked over the edge of the barrier – right as the droids opened fire. He would have gotten a laser to the face if Jesse hadn’t grabbed him and dragged him back behind cover. But even with their new handicap, Havoc did well with the simulation. They kept tight formation, advancing steadily on the target. It looked like they were going to make it.

And then the ‘plot twist’ (as it was known among the men) arrived. 

At once the floor behind Havoc opened up, and a squadron of enemies appeared at their rear flank. Six battle droids opened fire on their backs. Echo, poor man, was the first casualty. He had been trailing behind; the droids got him before he could even turn and face this new threat.

“Echo!” Fives shouted. He darted out of cover, running for his fallen brother.

“No!” Kix yelled. “Stay in formation!”

But already Fives’ impulsive move cost his team dearly. He had left their right side unguarded. Kix went down in a cross-fire; a moment later, so did Fives.

And then Hardcase got hit, and it was all over. The droids mopped up the remaining team members in a single, overwhelming wave.

Murmurs of sympathy ran through the crowd of onlookers. “Damn, that’s a tough one.”

“Better luck next time, Havoc.”

The other squads began to file out the door, their time with the simulator already over. It would be dinner soon, and nobody liked sitting next to Torrent Company at dinner. They were always sweaty when they came in.

Rex waited for the rest of the clones to finish leaving before he made his way down to the simulator floor.

When he made it down to the ground floor, he found Havoc Squad formed up around the two shines. Echo and Fives looked beat down. Their heads hung low, shoulders slumped in shame.

“Fives,” he called out, “Echo.”

Havoc Squad fell silent as Rex approached. He noticed that while the group all turned to face him, straightening to attention, they formed a subtle semi-circle around their newest brothers.

Fives rose slowly to his feet. Frustration was evident in his jawline, in the tightness of his shoulders, in the way he wouldn’t look Rex in the eyes. “Look, sir, if you’re just here to tell us that we screwed it all up, we already-”

“I’m here to tell you,” Rex said, cutting off Fives before the man could finish speaking, “that I’m glad you’re with us.”

That got him to shut up and listen.

“Needing practice is not the same thing as being worthless. Every member of the 501st had to start somewhere. Just let this be a lesson to you. The 501st Legion is underneath the care of General Skywalker, and I’m sure you’ve heard about his exploits. The missions we take on are the most dangerous, the most taxing, the highest priority.”

He stared them both in the eyes. “You two are as worthy to be a part of this Legion as any brother. Now prove it.”

The two men’s shoulders straightened.

“Yes, sir!” they shouted in unison.

“Good. Now get out of here. I don’t want anyone knocking on my door tonight complaining they missed chow.”

The team saluted him, and then didn’t so much head out the door as sprint for it. Rex smirked – nothing like the siren call of hot food to get his men to hustle.

The familiar sound of boots clacking against the floor alerted him to another presence. Yellow stripes appeared in his peripheral vision.

“They’ll make decent troopers,” Cody said. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Only the Commander could make such a stiff and formal pose look normal. “Nothing like that Hevy would have, unfortunately. Their aim leaves much to be desired.”

“Saw that, did you?” Rex took the chance to subtly glance over his friend. Cody appeared unharmed after their latest activities. But that didn’t mean much; Cody never let any of his injuries show. The man could have his limbs blown off and still proclaim himself fit for battle. “Have you been checked out by the medical droids yet?”

Cody waved off the concern. “Captain, I just watched you lie to their faces. Outright. They’re not Torrent Company material and we both know it. Especially Echo – he has no ability to adapt to changing environments. Putting him in an active war zone is just asking for him to end up a casualty. Why did you do it?”

They could both see out into the hallway, where Havoc Squad had stopped to turn in their leftover ammunition. Hardcase was enthusing over the Rishi-Eel handprint on Echo’s chest plate; by his gestures it seemed he was debating how to get one for himself.

“Cody, those boys just lost all of their brothers yesterday. They need a place to call home. Torrent Company will see to them.”

“But do you think they’re ready?”

Rex fixed his friend with a sharp look. “Are any of us ever truly  _ready_?”

Cody didn’t respond.

Rex hadn’t meant to snap at him. But in a way, Cody had spoken the truth: he wasn’t sure they would last out on a mission like Teth or Christophsis. He hadn’t totally lied – they could still prove themselves – but Cody and Rex had seen enough clones in their time to spot a good soldier from a bad one. These two were not bad soldiers. They weren’t great ones, either.

However, if giving those boys a squad that would accept them, would treat them like family, meant cutting their lives short – well, a clone was grown only for the purpose of dying. Far better to have a chance to truly live in the interim.

The commander’s footsteps echoed as he slowly circled the floor, gazing around. With Torrent Company gone their voices floated through the strangely empty chamber. “It’s been ages since I last set foot in one of these.” His words were wistfully nostalgic.

“And the troops are glad for it, no doubt. I’m pretty sure your hand-to-hand win record is still standing back on Kamino.”

Cody shook his head. “I’m not much of a trooper these days, Rex. I’ve been off the front lines for too long.”

That was bullshit if Rex ever heard it. Cody stood there in armor battered from two dozen campaigns. Men who  _weren’t much of a trooper_  didn’t survive that long.

Rex grabbed his arm to make him stop moving around. They were alone; a little impropriety was nothing between old friends. “Sir, you’re one of the best soldiers out there. It’ll take more than a cushy desk job to make you into anything but a warrior, through and through.”

Why couldn’t Cody seem to see it?

Rex was nothing if not an opportunist. An idea flitted through his mind and without a second thought for the consequences, he grabbed it.

“How about we go a round?”

Cody slowly turned over his shoulder. One eyebrow raised at Rex. “Against you.”

Rex cracked his neck, flexed his shoulders. Trying not to think too hard about what his big mouth had just signed him up for. “After three days stuck in a fighter, I thought you’d be eager for a chance to stretch.”

“Was Rishi not enough of a workout for you?” However, Cody did not seem to be dismissive of the idea. He turned fully towards the captain, his knees bending of their own accord into a fighter’s stance.

Rex grinned. This was more like it. He raised his fists. “Come on, live a little.”

And yet still something was holding Cody back. Damn it, when did he get so  _reserved_  over a little bit of fun? “What’s your angle, Rex? Trying to send your boss to an early retirement?” 

“Just trying to show that boss that he still can fight.” Rex couldn’t keep the smirk from his face. “Come _on_.”

Cody relented with the biggest display of annoyance he’d ever seen, but Rex knew him well enough to see it for the show it was. Cody peeled off his chest plate, setting it aside on one of the barricades. His shoulder guards and armbands quickly followed. “Go to first tap-out?”

Rex followed suit, stripping off his armor down to the waist. “Fine by me. Wouldn’t want to put you in the hospital, old man.”

“Oh. Is that how it’s going to be?” Cody’s eyebrow rose. He slid back into a fighter’s pose. “Let me show you just how well this _old man_  fights.”

And with a lunge and a swing, they began.

Rex had to admit it: Cody was right when he said he was rusty. It was the only reason Rex was able to keep up with him. Around and around the two fighters danced; parry, block, grapple, strike. The two men were perfectly matched, their height, their weight, their arm swing so dead even that the only difference lay in their adaptability. Rex’s body was wiry with the kind of musculature born from extended combat use, but Cody had hardly let himself go either.

Rex blocked a punch thrown his way, then the swinging kick he knew would follow it. Sweat trickled down his neck; his breath came in steady pants. When Rex scored a hit on Cody’s abdomen, he was sure his fist had taken just as much bruising as the solid block of muscle it connected with. Cody returned the favor with a boot to the back of Rex’s knee. That’s when Rex knew he had been right. Once a clone, always a clone.

But that didn’t change one simple fact: the longer they fought, the less rusty Cody became.

And Cody was much, much better than him.

 _This was a terrible idea_ , his mind told him as he barely managed to slip a grappling hold.  _Cody is going to destroy you._

“Need a time out?” Cody taunted as they broke apart. It was stupid bravado; Cody looked just as exhausted as Rex felt. Exhausted, sweaty, exhilarated.

Rex pushed himself to his feet. “Not on your life, old man.” He swung in with all his might and scored an elbow in Cody’s ribcage. The man grunted, instantly closing the space. His knuckles dusted Rex’s chin.

They weren’t being exactly subtle. Which is why Rex wasn’t surprised when somehow, in the middle of this, Torrent Company found out.

Cody was trying to put a chokehold on him when one of the Charlie Squad troopers stumbled in on their fight. From the periphery of his vision Rex saw the clone’s eyes widen. The trooper (was it Shock?) spun on his heel and hollered into the corridor.  _“Hey guys! The Captain’s fighting the Commander in the practice room!”_

 _"_ _Seriously?”_

_"I gotta see this!”_

And then in a surge of pounding feet, Torrent Company flooded into the catwalks. Rex sensed more than saw the troopers collecting up above. His eyes were too busy following Cody, reading each subtle motion for the next attack. Excited whispers filled the air above them. He was pretty sure he heard somebody start taking up bets.

Rex and Cody circled each other.

“Your men are about to watch me wipe the floor with you,” Cody said.

Rex laughed out loud. Adrenaline thrilled through his veins. “You think I’m going to let that happen?”

“ _C’mon, captain_!” came the cries from up above. “ _Show ‘em how the five-oh-first does it_!”

Rex was getting in to it, now. He was too invested to go down without a fight. He was CT-7567, the captain who could take on any challenge and win. He would  _not_  be beaten by a pencil-pusher.

Suddenly he saw it - an opening in Cody’s defense. The commander was growing sloppy, too tired and too overconfident in his abilities. He was leaving his hands too low, his face unprotected. A quick strike would lay him out.

Rex darted in, winding up for the killing blow.

Only to discover it for the feint it was.

As soon as Rex neared, Cody ducked sideways. He grabbed the extended arm and  _pulled,_  using Rex’s momentum against him. Rex went flying. His feet left the ground; he saw the floor rushing up to meet him.

Rex landed on his shoulder, rolling to absorb the impact. But before he could finish the maneuver Cody tackled him from behind. The commander’s full weight landed on his back, and Rex’s breath burst from him.

Rex squirmed, trying to escape, but in a moment it was over. Cody pinned him down, looping one arm around Rex’s throat in a chokehold. Applying pressure.

Rex strained for a long moment against the hold. It was no good. Bright flecks started dancing at the corners of his vision.

“You give?” From this close, Cody’s voice was a rumble through his chest.

Straining against the arm across his windpipe, Rex choked out, “I give.”

At once the pressure eased. Rex took a grateful gulp of air.

They both lay there for a moment, catching their breaths. The arena stank of physical exertion and shared sweat. Cody’s form was hot on top of him – not a pleasant sensation when he was feeling so overheated himself. He shrugged, and the commander rolled off him.

From up above there came cheering.

They were chanting Cody’s name.

Cody gazed up in surprise. Maybe he, like Rex, had forgotten their audience. The troopers were cheering like they had just won the entire war.

Cody’s frown was perplexed. “They’re not upset that I beat you?”

“They know a good fight when they see one.” He staggered to his feet. Both he and Cody were sweaty, breathing heavily. Rex grabbed Cody’s wrist and raised the arm over his head in a victorious cheer.

Torrent Company applauded wildly.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun,” Rex called up to them. “Now back to work!”

They laughed. Several called back responses as they filed out the door.

Once they were gone, Rex collapsed back against the barrier, catching his breath. Didn’t want to look weak in front of the men. “Damn,” he said, taking gulping breaths of air. “All that stuff about you being too old for this? It’s total crap, commander.”

A heavy thump as Cody dropped down next to him. The commander looked just as exhausted as he was.

“I think you made your point, captain,” Cody panted out.

Rex laughed between breaths. “You kidding, sir? I haven’t gotten that good a workout in ages. You’re one tough soldier.”

“Rex…” Cody reached out, placing his hand on the captain’s arm. “It’s good to have officers like you in my command.”

Rex grinned at him. “Don’t get all mushy on me, now. I might start bawling.”

"More than that…” Cody paused. His hand remained on Rex’s shoulder, rising and falling with the Captain’s heavy breathing. “It’s good to have a friend like you. Thank you.”

Rex’s smile softened. He didn’t need to respond; didn’t have to. 

Rex pushed himself vertical, holding out a hand for Cody. “Come on, sir, let’s get cleaned up. It smells like a Chiilak dipped in swamp-gas in here.”

Cody accepted the proffered hand. “And how would you know what that smells like?” 

“Well, remember that time I got deployed to Ord Pardron?....” And just like that Rex launched into another one of his famous stories, all the way to their rooms.

Cody was technically stationed on the  _Negotiator_ , but he spent enough time on the  _Resolute_  that he had his own room. Unlike troopers, clone officers got their own space: a tiny metal room each, hardly bigger than a closet, but it was worth it to have a chance for privacy once in a while.

“…and that’s when the cables broke, sending a twenty-ton waterbeast hurtling into the mud pit below. It took two squads over eight hours just to fish him out, and let me tell you, he was  _not_  happy when he finally got free. It took weeks for the smell to finally go away.” 

Cody shook his head. He carried his armor in his hands, chest plate slung over one shoulder. “It’s a wonder they ever promoted you past private.”

“Hey now. If it wasn’t for me and my Chiilak we wouldn’t even  _have_  a base on Ord Pardron any more.” 

They paused at the door to Cody’s room. Cody shuffled his burden, reaching for the identification pad. “I hope you’re not too embarrassed about getting shown up in front of your men, captain.”

“Nah, I’m not worried. Especially since I can outshoot you any day of the week.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” The door slid open, revealing the small and dark interior beyond.

Rex put his hand out, stopping the commander from going inside. “Care to put it to the test? Say, same time next week?”

Cody appeared to mull it over. For a moment Rex held his breath. Was it too much to ask? Cody was still a commander, still in charge of the 7th Sky Corps; he was probably too busy for goofing off. 

Then Cody relented with a rare smile. “Sure, Rex. Why the hell not.”

Rex ambled down the hallway towards his own room. Despite the lingering soreness from the chokehold, he felt an irrational need to start whistling.

It felt like his old friend was back. Maybe for good this time. 

He was nearly back at his own door when he remembered he still hadn’t gotten Cody to the med-bay. He doubled back. One more try certainly wouldn’t hurt; he felt like he had made a breakthrough with Cody, so perhaps this time he’d be more willing to listen.

Rex thumbed the door’s ID scanner, waiting for it to slide open. “Listen, Cody, I know you think it’s a waste of time, but could you do me a favor and-”

The door slid open.

Rex stopped cold.

The commander was in the fresher, washing off sweat. He had unzipped his bodysuit to the waist, leaving his torso bare as he sluiced water over his neck. That wasn’t what had stopped Rex, though. What stopped him was the sight of the commander’s bared flesh.

Beneath his suit the Commander’s body was riddled with scars. 

Pale lines mottled his skin – some old, some new – crisscrossing in a systematic pattern. So many scars.

Far more than any man would receive from just battle.

Cody looked up, catching sight of Rex’s gaze in the mirror. Realized what he was looking at.

Just like that a shutter came down over Cody’s eyes. He pulled his suit back on, zipping it closed.

In a single second Rex crossed the room, grabbing Cody by the shoulders. “Whoah, hold up.” His hand on Cody’s arm skewed the suit’s collar, revealing inches of pale lines snaked across his collarbone. Straight, clean cuts. “What the hell happened here?”

Rex wasn’t expecting the fist that connected with his sternum. He stumbled back into the sink, coughing.

Cody fixed his collar, hiding the rest of the scars. His expression, so warm just a few minutes ago, had gone cold. “It’s nothing. Just forget about it.”

“But-”

“I said, Captain, to  _forget it_.” And with that Cody swept past him, storming out into the hallway.

 

\------

 

“Cody, there you are.”

Halfway down the corridor, Cody startled to attention.

Master Kenobi moved like a cat: his footfalls light, his motions graceful and alert. He swept silently into view. In his Jedi robes and billowing cloak he looked more like a harmless librarian than a decorated war general.

“I say, Cody,” he said with mild surprise. “Is everything alright?”

Cody took a long breath, forcing himself to focus. “Everything is fine, sir. How can I help you?”

“The Seventh Sky Corps is splitting up. Anakin’s forces are being sent to the Quell System to aid Master Secura’s troops. In the meantime the  _Negotiator_ is going to Rodia, to oversee preparations for an invasion of Ry’loth.”

“Ry’loth?” That bought Cody’s full attention. “I thought the Trade Federation’s blockade was completely impassable.”

Kenobi’s responding smirk was all confidence. General Skywalker was rubbing off on him. “That’s why they’re sending us to find a way around it. We’ll be joined there by Master Ima-Gun-Di, and Master Windu’s forces once he’s ready. It won’t be terribly interesting, I’m afraid, but it is very important.”

Ry’loth. Last he had heard, the Twi’lek home planet was being slowly starved out as a tactic to force the Republic into engaging on that territory. It smelled like a trap.

Cody did not let his disappointment show. Once again Rex was heading off to combat, while he was being sent to mull over forms and requisition orders. “We’ll find a way to take back that planet, sir. I’ll see to it that the men are ready to move out.”

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary,” Obi-Wan said, waving a hand dismissively. “I just wanted to let you know in person. Go ahead and finish your inspections and we’ll see you on Rodia when you’re done.”

Cody blinked. Certain he’d misheard. “You want me to continue with the inspection mission? After everything that happened?”

“Certainly. If you hadn’t checked in on Rishi, we would never have known about the invasion. We must be doubly certain now that nothing is amiss with our other stations.” Obi-Wan placed a hand on Cody’s shoulder. “I will see to the rebuilding of Rishi Outpost and the Kaminoan defenses. This is no small mission; I am entrusting it to you and Captain Rex’s care.”

Cody felt the ground sinking beneath his feet. “But… surely Captain Rex should go with-”

“Anakin has already cleared him to finish the mission.” Obi-Wan’s forehead crinkled in careful consideration. “Honestly, Cody, I thought you would enjoy a chance to spend time with your friend. Finish the mission, and then come find us.”

Cody straightened to attention. “Yes, sir.”

Obi-Wan’s smile was warm. “I can always count on you, Cody.” And with that the Master Jedi swept away, his cloak billowing behind him and lightsaber swinging on his belt. His footsteps were nearly silent against the steel floor.

Cody waited until Obi-Wan had disappeared around the corner before exhaling. He rubbed his temple, fighting the oncoming headache.

Three more days. Three days trapped in a starfighter with Rex.

“Frakk,” he muttered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stop hiding.

“You’re avoiding me.”

A subtle click; the door locked.

Cody closed his eyes, sighing out a silent curse. He had gotten so absorbed in writing up his inspection report that he hadn’t heard Rex enter the room.

He wasn’t expecting the captain to return so soon. All day long had been a string of headaches, one after another – calling Kenosha Station  _rough_  was putting it mildly – such that by dinnertime even his normally stoic captain was looking harried. When some of the off-duty clones had invited Rex out for dinner, Cody had been more than happy to retire early and let Rex go bother someone else for a while.

Yes, he’d been avoiding him.

Not because he didn’t want Rex around – that couldn’t have been further from the truth. But he was afraid. He, who had once faced down a rancor, found his gut churning at the thought of looking into Rex’s eyes and seeing his own secrets laid bare.

Three days they had been at this; three exhausting days of tense, awkward silence. Moments they found themselves alone strained like a quivering wire. Words and glances and motions failing to bridge this unspeakable gulf that lay beneath their feet.

And now Rex was standing behind him. Between him and a locked door.

Cody tapped the power button on his holo-reader, automatically saving the work on his report and uploading it to headquarters. A particularly vitriolic paragraph decrying the state of Kenosha’s emergency protocol adherence arrived without fanfare in General Kenobi’s inbox.

Then he caught a whiff off of Rex, sharp and strong. He’d have to have been born without a nose to  _not_  smell it. “Have you been drinking?”

Soft footsteps, hushing across the carpet. “A little more than I intended,” Rex admitted. “The boys were buying rounds and then there was this dancer, and – never mind, you had to have been there. But that’s not important right now _._ ”

Cody felt his chair whirl around. He came to a stop facing Rex, the captain’s arms braced on either side of him, staring up into the man’s not inconsiderable bulk.

The captain had, for the first time in a long time, eschewed his armor for actual clothing. The simple gray shirt was not particularly fashionable, but it accented his warrior’s physique nicely. Seeing him out of uniform, and with his bleached hair catching the lamp’s dim light, Cody was struck by just how un-clone-like Rex was. The effect was… disconcerting. But certainly not unpleasant.

(Judging by the number written on the back of Rex’s palm, at least one person at the bar had also noticed this fact.)

“What is important,” Rex said, snapping Cody out of his wandering thoughts, “is that you’ve been avoiding me. And with all due respect, sir, I’m done putting up with it.”

A few scenarios flitted through Cody’s mind in the span of a second. The captain was leaving himself wide open; a few precision strikes would easily take him down. The device in his hand would make a decent projectile. Or Cody could pull rank and force Rex to back off.

He sighed, and carefully set the holo-reader back on his desk. “What do you want from me, Captain?”

“You know what I want.”

Other than the pool of light from the desk-lamp, the room was dark. Cody found himself strangely thankful for that fact; he couldn’t bring himself to look at Rex’s too-sharp eyes.

One of Rex’s hands rose from the chair and came to a rest on Cody’s neck. Cody could feel the heat coming off Rex, even through his bodysuit’s fabric. “I just want you to talk to me.”

Cody stayed stock-still. This trip – this entire trip – had been a mistake. He should have fought Obi-Wan harder, given it to Wolffe or Bly or done literally  _anything_  but this. His pulse seemed to hammer in that one spot where Rex’s hand rested. He should pull away. He should fight him off.

He was tired of fighting.

He was tired of being alone.

And so even though he should have pushed him away, he instead found himself sitting there, allowing the captain to hold him down and run his thumb along Cody’s collar. The two stayed there for a long moment, both balanced on the edge of something huge and dark.

Cody was the first to bridge that darkness. His voice was low and quiet between them. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking, captain?”

\------

Did he?

Rex wasn’t sure.

He had come into this room so certain of himself – so sure that now, after days of silence and avoidance and those painful glances, he was going to get to the bottom of this. Four shots and several other drinks he couldn’t remember had only made him more confident. But now, seeing the look on his commander’s face – he could practically see the armor going up around him, the shutters drawing down over his eyes – caution began to whisper in the back of his mind. Sometimes armor shouldn’t be removed. There was a trooper he had once seen take a piece of shrapnel to the gut, right through his armor plate. When the medic took off his breastplate the clone’s innards had come spilling out with it.

What would come spilling out of Cody if he started pulling?

Those were the words of warning that his mind whispered. But his veins were filled with liquid courage, and that caution was being steadily drowned in a pool of alcohol calling for him to  _do it, do it, do it._

Besides, Rex had always been a shoot-first, ask-questions-after kind of clone.

“Tell me, Cody,” he said. His thumb slid lower, dragging the cloth downwards. Cody was only wearing the bodysuit tonight – Rex recalled how he had teased Cody for his ascetic modesty earlier. What was funny then seemed ominous in hindsight. How had he missed all the warning signs?

Cody breathed in, but the breath was unsteady. “Don’t make me order you, Rex.”

Rex’s hand moved from his neck, down to the zipper at his chin. He was certain Cody would stop him – wind up and sock him in the jaw. Rex could take it. He would let Cody beat him to a pulp afterwards, if he felt like it; no matter what he was  _s_ till going to see those scars.

Rex could feel Cody’s pulse rabbiting, belying his calm exterior – but he did not stop him. Rex took this as a silent form of assent.

Gently, like a surgeon peeling a bandage, Rex rolled the zipper down.

He sucked in a breath as he revealed the expanse of skin beneath. What he had seen before had been just a fleeting glance in a mirror. Up close, the damage was far worse. And  _damaged_  was the only word for how Commander Cody looked beneath his clothes.

Scars littered his skin. Some looked battle-worn; others could have no such easy answer. Along his ribs were a series of short white gashes, organized into tally marks. Rex reached out and brushed his fingertips against them. He didn’t need to ask what Cody had been counting.

“Finally speechless for once.” Cody’s mouth twisted up on one side. A smile that failed to reach his eyes. “If I’d known it would be this easy I would have stripped down long ago.”

Rex’s hands shook with suppressed emotion. How could Cody joke about something like this? About this map of pain across his body?

“I don’t understand,” he said.

Cody’s voice insinuated across the narrow space between them. “Would you like to hear a story, captain?”

The sudden change in topic threw him. Rex nodded, wondering where this was going. Cody pushed him aside, standing, and moved to lean against the windowsill. Rex felt the break in eye contact like a physical sensation.

Silvery Kenoshan moonlight painted Cody in stripes of light and shadow. “Do you remember CC-5576-39?”

“Gregor? Hell yeah I remember him. Funny guy. Great captain.”

“He was.” Cody took a long breath; they both were silent for a second, sharing a thought for a clone, a brother, lost and gone. “He survived some of the hardest battles this war has thrown our way. Geonosis, Teth, Christophsis. Never complained about it once. It was Sarrish that finally did him in.”

“Sarrish… I heard about that one. A lot of good troopers died that day.” He’d heard a lot about it, actually. Met one of the survivors. The battle had left that clone with a suicide wish – a wish that had been granted not a month later, when he threw himself on a grenade.

“To secure a target that the Senate later decided was  _not strategically significant._ ” When Cody lifted his hand to the windowsill, Rex saw it was shaking. “I knew it the moment I was given the battle plan. The enemy was too fortified, too well armed; it would never justify the cost of sustaining an offensive there. And I still sent them out.  _Nine legions._  Only one came back.”

Rex stood rooted in place.

“Gregor came to me the night before they shipped out. He knew it, too – I saw it in his eyes. He knew it was a suicide mission. He told me…” Cody stopped, let his head drop against the cold windowpane. Took a deep breath. “He told me it had been an honor to serve under me, and that every one of his men was ready to sacrifice for the Republic. Do you see? They  _trusted us to make their deaths meaningful._ And how did we repay them? Pulling out of the system, leaving bodies still lying in the fields.”

Then Cody reached up and, in a single decisive movement, stripped off his suit to the waist.

For a long moment Cody stood tall, unabashed for once in his own truth. This was who he was. Moonlight painted his body silver, and against his skin the scars shone white. Rex could finally see the answer to his question: the scars tapered off across his back, likely for logistical reasons, but on his arms and sides the marks clustered dense, became a latticework.

Rex found his breath was stolen.

Cody lifted his arm to the light. There, in the crook of his elbow, was a faded scar in the shape of a  _G_. 

“I just wanted to do right by him. Someone had to remember him, to make his life mean something. But there were so many dead, I was afraid I would start to forget….” Cody broke off, ducking his head. Shadows obscured his expression; the secret grief that no clone would allow another to see.

Rex moved in closer, so close they were practically touching. He was beginning to understand. Every clone felt pain: the ache of loss, the fear of emptiness. Of being nothing more than  _spare parts._  But surrounded by his brothers it was always enough. Enough shoulders to share his burden.

But who did Cody have?

This, the strongest clone he knew, the greatest of them all, was bleeding out his agony where nobody else could see it, and all Rex could do was offer cold comfort. He had never felt more powerless in his life.

It all came crashing down on him at that moment. The loneliness of space, separated thousands of light-years from his brothers at arms. The terror of not knowing what could happen to them at any moment. The stress of having the weight of a whole galactic war on their shoulders. The lurking fear that always lived in the back of every clone’s mind: that they, as nothing more than tank-grown cannon fodder, would die alone and forgotten on some meaningless battlefield, and that their lives were always meant to be worth less.

Cody’s breath shook as he inhaled. Rex’s hand came to a rest on his bare and scarred shoulder, the only thing he knew how to do. He wanted to take his burden. He wanted to tell him that everything would work out. He wanted to believe it.

He wanted….

And, well.

Maybe he shouldn’t have had quite so much to drink.

That was the reason – the  _only_  reason, surely – that his forehead slipped forward to rest against Cody’s. It was the alcohol, the loneliness of war, the fear of being forgotten that had his thumb wrapping around the side of Cody’s face.

He didn’t know which of them moved first, but suddenly they were kissing.

The sensation of lips underneath his was a foreign one, unexpectedly warm and soft – words he never would have associated with the commander. He felt a shudder of inhaled breath pass through Cody.

A heady sense of unreality descended over Rex. There was skin under his fingers, pliant to the touch, and faint stubble brushing against his nose. Cody tasted of heat and battle. Force alive, he was actually  _kissing the commander._

And even more stunning, he discovered that he liked it.

Growing in confidence, Rex pressed the advantage. He inhaled against Cody’s mouth, tasting the commander’s fire, and those lips opened against his. A hint of teeth caught at his lip. Rex felt the earth moving beneath his feet, dizzying.

They broke apart, foreheads still touching. The heat of mingled air shuddered in the space between them.

But even scarred and broken, Cody was a soldier in all things. He surged forward and captured Rex’s mouth again. Cody kissed like he fought: fierce and unyielding, vying for dominance. When their lips met it was like being back in the arena.

And Rex always gave as good as he got.

He gripped the back of Cody’s head, fingers digging in to the rough, short hair there. Cody made a noise, tilting his head to press harder against Rex, breath gasped through his noise. Their kissing grew fierce, teeth and hands and a grapple for control.

The commander let out a tiny moan, and the sound sent heat pooling to Rex’s groin. This was madness, it was insanity – it felt like an entirely different cosmos he had fallen into, and he didn’t care. Cody’s breath was hot on his neck, hands were roaming across his back, his neck, his waist and Rex never wanted anything more in his life. Blood was pumping in his ears.

Cody broke apart, panting for breath. His head fell back against the wall. “Wait,” he said.

 Rex leaned down, trailing kisses down the commander’s bare neck. He tasted raised scar tissue beneath his tongue, salty and sweet all at once.

Cody yanked Rex back up, shoving him away. “I said  _hold on_.”

The sudden shift was like a spanner chucked in an engine. Rex stumbled backwards, confused and more than a little hurt. He felt a sudden stinging lack where only a second ago there had been heat, and desire, and skin moving against his own.

He looked back at Cody. Their eyes met.

Reality suddenly came crashing back in.

His commander – a clone – was still pressed against the wall where Rex had shoved him, half-naked and flushed. His lips were kiss-swollen; his hair was mussed.

Oh, kriff.

There were not  _words_ to describe how much trouble they were in.

Rex watched Cody carefully, not certain how he would react. The commander seemed to be coming to the same realization Rex just had.

Cody turned away to the desk. Light pooled on his shoulders as he leaned forward, resting his weight on his knuckles. Illuminating the scratches Rex had left across his shoulders.

“Frakk… Cody, I didn’t mean to-” Rex couldn’t even find the right words. He ran his hands through his hair, unable to look at Cody, at anything right now. An emotion very close to panic was starting to filter to the surface.

Cody raised a single finger. The motion made Rex stop completely.

“Captain… I need you to leave right now.”

Rex nodded. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Rex left without a fight.

The room next door was a duplicate of the one he had just left, and stepping in to it gave Rex an unpleasant sense of déjà vu. Whenever he glanced towards the desk he could still see Cody leaning over it, lamplight delineating the curve of his muscular back.

Rex scrubbed a hand across his face. As he did he got a whiff of himself; the reek of a dive bar mingled with the salty scent of arousal. Well hell, a shower sounded pretty good right now. Especially since this inn had sanisteams, which was a damn sight better than those sonic showers on the Republic Fleet.

Only once the sanisteam was on, haze filling up the tiny stall, did he allow himself to actually think about what had just happened.

Rex knocked his forehead against the shower wall. And then he did it again for good measure.

Clones were  _not_  supposed to have… encounters… with other clones. It was considered faulty programming. Not that it didn’t happen – sometimes the men got frustrated too, and with nobody else around to relieve that frustration it was either that or picking fights – but more than one clone had been sent back to Kamino for reprogramming. For what he and Cody had just done. 

And for what, if Cody had not stopped him, he knew beyond a doubt he would have just done.

He cleaned himself quickly, vigorously, as if he could somehow scrub away the images that kept cycling in his head.

Cody’s expression, framed in half by moonlight. 

The taste of Cody’s mouth. 

The sounds that Cody made when he pressed against him. 

The need to feel  _more_ , to have more, to take it further.

He turned the steam from hot to icy, blistering cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to post a chapter leading in to this regarding this particular outpost, but it was being stubborn, so I decided to spare you and jump right into the meat of the story. I may go back at some point and post it as chapter 2.5.
> 
> This chapter dealt with some heavy topics, so apologies to anyone who may have found this difficult to deal with. I can’t imagine the psychological damage that an army of clones must all suffer. Of course, they may be damaged, but they’re far from weak – which is part of why they’re so fun to write.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The needs of the war come first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These events take place over episodes 1:17 and 1:18.

The transport ship swayed, carrying the captain and twenty 501st troopers skimming across the treetops of Naboo. The ship’s doors were open, and the night air that blew in was sweet and calm. So remarkably unlike any other planet this war had been fought across. Aboard the transport the troopers were silent, each readying himself for the battle ahead. They gripped their weapons, bodies tensed. Captain Rex was glad to have them at his back. He would need them for this one.

Beneath the surface of this calm, pastoral night, a threat was bubbling forth. Like an undetected cancer below Naboo’s skin, a Separatist laboratory had grown, slowly, insidiously, and now had in their hands a biological weapon powerful enough to plunge the whole Republic into a dark age. To top it off, they had hostages: the two Naboo senators, Amidala and Binks.

The orders were simple. Get in, save the senators, stop the virus.

This was what Rex was grown for.

The dropship came to a hover over a clearing in the trees. Rex grabbed ahold of the rappel line, leaning out the open side to get a better view, and spotted Ahsoka crouched in the foliage next to one of the natives.

Ahsoka Tano was one of the most… unusual commanders Rex had ever served under. Brash, and young; she strutted around with an oversized attitude, as if the lightsaber on her hip and the Padawan braid swinging from her lekku made her invincible.  The first time he had called her ‘commander’ the word had stuck in his craw. That title belonged to someone who earned it. Someone like Cody.

Rex felt his cheeks begin to redden. He instantly quashed that line of thought.

Right. Ahsoka.

No, he wasn’t a huge fan of General Skywalker’s Padawan learner. But she was still a Jedi, and despite all his misgivings, he had to admit – she was damned good at destroying clankers, and in this war that was what ultimately mattered. His job was to follow her, and follow her he would.

The Padawan raised a hand, ready to give the signal. In the dropship the troopers stacked close behind him. Rex thumbed the safety off his gun, heard echoing clicks from the others.

Her hand came down. An explosion detonated just below the dropship, making the craft swing drunkenly. Rex grabbed on with both hands to keep from falling out altogether. As the fire and dust cleared he could see a hole just below them, opened by the grenade.

“Everybody move!” Rex swung out, wrapped his feet around the rappel line, and dropped straight into the pit. His men followed close behind.

 

\------

 

“This is Skywalker. We have the doctor in custody. Looks like the Blue Shadow Virus isn’t going anywhere today.”

Behind him, his squad gave a cheer. Rex let himself relax, then, thumbing the safety back on his guns and holstering them. The laboratory looked like a tornado had swept through – or rather, like a battle had been fought down its cramped metallic hallways. Droids were piled all over, little more than useless heaps of slag after three Jedi and the 501st had had their way with them.

Minimal casualties, maximum results. A win in anyone’s book.

Ahsoka, sweaty from running and smudged with dirt, gave him a grin. “Score one for the good guys. What’s our status?”

Rex did a quick headcount. Joker, Red, Bantha, Trapper, Delta, and Vic were still standing with him. His helmet’s HUD displayed another eighteen clones scattered throughout the base. “Fifteen KIA. We’ve got a dropship topside waiting to take us home. Once we finish a final sweep we should be safe to leave.”

“Awesome. I’ve had enough of this smelly laboratory.” She wrinkled her nose. “Can’t wait for a sonic shower and a hot meal. We totally earned it.”

Rex waved the squad forward. “Spread out. Radio check-ins every five minutes. I know there’s still some clankers left. Not a drop of that virus better escape this lab, boys.”

The troopers all chorused in the affirmative. Then they fanned into the corridors, collecting their brothers’ bodies as they went.

Ahsoka was walking next to him, her head on a swivel as they scanned for remaining targets. They could hear the footsteps of other clones behind them, checking every nook and cranny.

“You did a great job today,” Ahsoka said. “I still can’t believe we pulled it off. I couldn’t have done it without your team.”

“That’s our job.” And it had taken fifteen of his best soldiers’ lives to accomplish it.

They paused, watching as the team pulled a fallen clone out from underneath the droids littering the floor. The men hefted the body, carrying it between them. At least his fallen brothers would get a proper send-off this time.

“You know,” she said, “a lot of people say that you clones are all the same. Which makes sense – I mean, you are clones and all. But you’re a lot different from the rest.”

He frowned behind his helmet. Was that supposed to be a compliment? Or an insult?

“So… thanks,” she said. “For having my back.”

Rex only knew one thing: war. He had learned how to disassemble and reassemble a pistol before he could read. He was versed in twenty-seven different unarmed combat styles. He could access a list of over three thousand situational protocols that had been installed in every clone’s brain during the incubation process.

And he knew for certain that a bright young woman like her didn’t belong on the battlefield.

He opened his mouth to tell her so, only for the words to be cut short by an explosion.

The explosion rocked the compound, shuddering the walls all around them. Rex stumbled to regain his footing.

When he did, an alarm wailed to life. Frantic red light pulsed around them. Doors began to slam shut.

“Virus leak,” he said. He clamped down on a spike of fear, smothering it in adrenaline. Their armored suits would keep them partially safe, so long as they avoided a lethal dose –

His eyes settled on Ahsoka, and a jolt of dread struck him.

The commander wasn’t wearing armor. She was completely exposed.

He grabbed her arm, throwing her into motion down the hall. “Get to the safe room!” he yelled.

Ahsoka needed no second bidding. She hit the deck running, the clone squad hot on her heels.

Doors shut one by one down the hall, always just ahead of the fleeing squad. Rex picked up an unusual scent filling the air, and slapped on the helmet’s filters. When he glanced behind him he could see a noxious, odious cloud of billowing blue smoke racing towards them.

Billowing blue  _virus._

Rex put on an extra burst of speed. They rounded the corner at full-tilt, rebounding off the wall to avoid losing momentum. His heart was racing; air hissed through his filters, fighting to keep up with the frantic pace of his breaths.

His training pulsed through his mind with each pound of his heartbeat.

_Protect the commander._

_Protect the commander._

He could throw himself in front of a blaster shot. But how could he defend her from the very air itself?

“There!” Ahsoka pointed. Up ahead, thank the Force, was the safe room. But even as they sprinted forward the blast door was already sliding shut.

“Hurry! The doors are closing!” He could feel the virus licking up his legs, tingling like acid. They weren’t going to make it-

Ahsoka threw out her hands. The door ground to a halt.

“Get inside!” she shouted.

Rex could have kissed her; he could have killed her, what was she  _doing?!_

Clones scrambled through the opening, dropping into the room beyond. The billowing virus cloud hissed into the open air around them-

The Padawan made it into the room just as the door slammed shut. She tumbled to the ground, rolling to a halt.

They had made it. Unbelievable – they had done it.

From outside the door he heard a frantic banging. No, not all of them had made it. One of the brothers was too late. Rex looked around; Delta was missing. The other eighteen, presumably, were also caught in the virus blast. He placed a hand on the meter-thick door. He felt it shudder under Delta’s frantic pounding.

“Sorry, Delta,” he said quietly. There was nothing he could do for him now. It burned him, but he had to focus on the survivors in the room.

Delta must have realized this, as the knocking finally ceased.

Rex took a look around, his soldier’s mind analyzing everything for strategic value. The room they were in was some kind of storage bunker, with walls of triple-reinforced steel. Stacks of crates littered the floor (he would never allow such a haphazard storage system in his base). Whoever had build the room had built it right; a supernova wouldn’t be able touch this place. But it also meant there was only one way in – and one way out. Back out into the now-flooded base.

Rex scrounged his mind, trying to think up a way out of this. But he came up blank.

“You alright?” he asked his men. They were clustered around one of their brothers, who was struggling with his suit.

The trooper – Joker – removed his helmet and started coughing. His usually tanned skin had gone pale. “Something… got lodged in my filter,” he wheezed. “Think I breathed that stuff in.”

Rex stepped back quickly. The Blue Shadow virus was hugely contagious. If some of it got in with them, they were all dead men walking.

Trapper guiltily chimed in, “I’m not feeling so great either, captain.”

Better and better.

Rex thought quickly. The men looked like they were on the verge of panic; several were reaching for their helmets. Rex placed a hand on one of the trooper’s shoulder. “Take care of your brother, Red. Everyone else, check your suits for leaks. Our priority is staying safe.”

“What about yourself, captain?”

“I’m going to speak to the Jedi. Just hold tight, men. We’ll find a way out of this.”

Ahsoka was on her communicator, speaking to General Skywalker. Something about a cure. The female senator’s voice could also be heard – it sounded like she had an environment suit on. That was a relief.

Ahsoka closed down her comlink as he approached. “Well, I have some good news, Rex. My master says the base locked down fully. None of the virus escaped onto Naboo. But… there is bad news too.” She winced. “Any remaining battle droids are going to try and tunnel out.”

“And we can’t leave without exposing ourselves.”

“Exactly.”

He crossed his arms. These were the kind of situations that every commander dreaded: having to decide the lesser of two terrible options. If it was just him and his men, he would have led them straight out into the compound without a moment’s hesitation. But knowing that it would expose Commander Tano to the virus as well….

A voice hailed him from across the room. One of the clones was holding a scanner, and he waved the pair of them over.

“Um… captain,” Red said, his voice taut with barely-suppressed horror. “You’re going to want to look at this.” He turned the screen to show Rex. What the scanner displayed was Rex’s worst fear confirmed.

He was wrong. They hadn’t made it after all.

The air in the room was thick with virus particles. Which meant that all of them were potentially – no, almost guaranteed to be – infected now.

The realization struck him numbly. They were dead men walking. Funny; he didn’t  _feel_  like he was dying. Or did he? Was his breath just a tiny bit harder to catch than usual? 

_Stop that_ , he told himself. Panic wasn’t going to help anything. He had to assume they were all carriers now.

At least it made his decision easier.

“We may be dead men,” he announced, “but we can still stop those droids.”

A fist impacted his shoulder, a friendly nudge. “Don’t worry,” said Ahsoka with a smile. “My master will find a cure for this virus. We’re not dead yet!”

Red pulled up some calculations on his scanner. “The Commander is right. Says here the Blue Shadow Virus can take up to two days to kill us in its airborne form.”

Two days? Still seemed like a long shot to him. But if General Skywalker said he could make a cure in that time, then it was possible some of them might still make it out.

Rex made an instantaneous decision. He raised a hand to his helmet, preparing to give it to Ahsoka. Getting her out alive was the priority.

Her hand came to a rest on his, stopping him.

“It’s okay, Rex,” she said softly. She was smiling, even as she breathed in the lethal air.

Rex stared at her.

In that moment, he had a realization.

He had misjudged Ahsoka. She was young, yes, but she was ready to die for the mission. The same as any of his brothers. Beneath her grins and swagger was the soul of a warrior. A leader. A Jedi.

Which is why he proceeded to do something utterly ridiculous.

He removed his helmet.

Ahsoka’s eyes widened into rings of white. “Rex, what are you doing?!”

Rex took a long breath. He could taste the virus in the air; it had a sickly-sweet flavor, like decaying matter. The foulness set his nose shriveling.

Now he was infected, too. If he hadn’t been before, he certainly was now.

“I’m not letting you face this threat alone, sir.” He tucked his helmet under his elbow. “We’re in this together, to the end.”

This would be how his team made its last stand. In a way, it felt relieving; no longer did he have to fear every breath. Now he could at least do something.

“Well,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and giving a little laugh, “this is quite the mess we’re in. But I’m glad you’re here, Rex.”

Then she stopped, seeming to rethink her last statement. “Er… I mean, I’m not glad that you’re trapped in this room, here, that’s terrible – I just meant, if I had to be trapped in a room slowly filling with poison gas, you would be someone I-”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. That stopped the young Jedi.

“I know what you mean, Commander. Now, what do you say we go stop some droids?”

 

\------

 

Two hundred lightyears away, Commander Cody received an incoming message. It flashed onto his datapad: an update on some kind of crisis occurring on Naboo. He pulled it up, scanning the contents quickly.

Cody’s legs gave out from beneath him.

 

\------

 

Forty-eight hours.

That was how long the virus would take to kill them.

They had been trapped here for over twenty-seven now.

As far as deaths went, Rex had been hoping for something a bit nobler. Singlehandedly defending a village from a rancor, perhaps, or staying behind to detonate a bomb like that trooper Hevy had. Huge explosion, millions of lives saved. Now that had been one for the books.

Not that they weren’t saving millions of lives– trillions, even – by choosing to stay in the complex, but all this painful lingering, the false hope that maybe the Jedi would come through somehow – it seemed like a mockery.

Rex was a born fighter. It was unfair that he would go down against an enemy he couldn’t even aim at. His twin blasters were just useless pieces of scrap on his hips.

At least they had found the Senators.

At least they had stopped the droids.

At least the galaxy was saved.

Ahsoka and Padme finished their transmission to Skywalker, begging him not to open the compound should his mission fail. It had been a ridiculous plan from the start: the two generals somehow believed they could fly across the galaxy, obtain an obscure root, bring it back, and engineer it into an antidote in less than two days. Half their time was up and there had been no contact yet from the Jedi. Rex wasn’t designed to hang on false hope. He knew enough to know Kenobi and Skywalker would not be coming – or if they did, it wouldn’t be until everyone in the complex was already dead.

That was just what war meant.

Ahsoka’s footsteps were overly-loud in the quiet. Only coughing and the drip of an old pipe interrupted each person’s silent introspection. Red light caught on the haze floating over the floor, casting the room in a demonic light. Ahsoka was pacing. Hands wrapped around her forearms, head bowed, she prowled like a caged rancor.

Kriff, the girl looked bad. Her veins were standing out against her skin, which was pale and clammy. She was fighting hard to look strong.

He stirred up the energy to address her. “You’ll want to sit down, sir, and stop moving around. Minimize your oxygen intake.”

Ahsoka paused. She took a long, deep breath.

Then she slid down to a rest beside Rex. Her shoulder was a solid weight against his armor.

“I hate this waiting,” she said. “I want to do something.”

“I know, commander.” Tired as he was, he found the energy to give her a little smile. “Me too.”

 

\------

 

Time passed slowly in the lab. Nothing to do except listen, and see which came first: the sound of more droids breaking in, or the coughing.

“We need more water.”

It was the first thing that any of them had said in hours. Senator Amidala’s voice was dry and husky, her lips chapped. Though water flowed freely from a pipe in the floor, it was likely contaminated.

Ahsoka put her hands on her knees and pushed herself upright. Even she was succumbing to the virus’ grip. Her eyes were sunken deep in their sockets. “I’ll take a look around. Rex, can you help me?”

“Of course.” He levied himself up against the crates. Even a simple motion like that was far more difficult than usual.

A cloud of cold blue gas spilled out to greet them when they opened the blast door. The hallway beyond was bathed in strange blue light. It was beautiful, calm and quiet; hard to imagine they were walking through death itself.

The halls were filled with the husks of shattered droids. They picked their way carefully through, smoke swirling with every step. Their footsteps echoed.

Ahsoka cleared her throat. “Hey, Rex.”

He kept his guard up, ears pricked for the sound of more droids. He was fairly certain they had gotten them all, but a surprise attack was the last thing they needed. “Yes, sir?”

“Do you think we’re going to make it out of here?”

He started to say _of course_ , but found it stuck in his throat. “The generals are trying their best to save us,” he settled on.

“Rex.” Her voice stopped him in his tracks. When he looked back at her she had stopped and was gazing down, looking at the floor.

He breathed out. The blue mist in front of him swirled with the exhalation. “No. I don’t.”

She was silent for a long moment after that.

He wondered what she was thinking of. Did she have any family she had left behind? Or maybe she was thinking of the Temple that was her home, which she would never see again. Or sunlight.

“I know when I die, I will become one with the Force.” She looked up then, and the smile she gave him was faltering and confused. “So why am I afraid?”

_Oh, Ahsoka._ He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Nothing wrong with that. It means you’re alive, sir.”

She chuckled, leaning against him. His arm went around her shoulders.

Was he afraid, too? Is that what this feeling was?

He knew he was ready to die – every clone was. They had been brought into the world to fight, and ultimately, to die. But why then, did he long for just one more day? One more chance to….

To what?

_Light pooled on Cody’s shoulders as he leaned forward, illuminating the scratches Rex had left across his shoulders._ _“Captain… I need you to leave. Right now.”_

To fix a wrong.

“Hey, Rex? Can I ask you a question?” Ahsoka, when he looked down, had gone slightly pink. “It’s kind of a weird question, so you have to promise not to think I’m weird or anything.”

Rex surreptitiously cast a glance down at the Padawan. What was going on in that montral-tipped head of hers? “I’ll answer it if I can, sir.”

“Have you ever kissed anybody?”

Rex’s stomach lurched.

“Why?” he asked, too quickly.

Her flush was turning crimson. “I’ve never… I mean, I’ve lived almost my whole life in the Jedi Temple. I just was curious what I’m missing out on.”

He willed himself to take a breath. So she didn’t know. Nobody knew. Rex regained himself as smoothly as he could, which – if he was being honest – wasn’t very smoothly in the least. “Clones aren’t programmed for love, commander.”

“So you haven’t, either….”

“Let’s not go that far, sir. I mean, we’re still men.” He felt himself growing warm under his armor. This was the most bizarre conversation he had ever had. “Kissing… it’s nothing special. Just feels exactly like what you’d think it feels like.”

“Oh.” The girl looked disappointed. Rex felt absurdly like he had let her down.

Sympathy moved him to be more honest than he normally would. “But if you really care about the person, that’s what makes the difference. It feels….“ He gestured vaguely, trying to encapsulate the experience. The uncomprehending look on her face told him he had failed. “Honestly, this is a question Senator Amidala would be better able to answer.”

“Rex?”

“Yeah?”

She stepped back, taking a breath. “Would you… kiss me?”

Now he was the one staring. Ahsoka wasn’t looking at him; she was white-knuckled gazing ahead, and her face had gone the same color as her top. “I just don’t want to die without knowing how it feels.”

Never, not once in his life, had he felt a desire to kiss a teenaged Togruta. The idea did not really strike him as pleasant.

The silence stretched on.    

Well, he did say that he would do anything for her. And it didn’t… seem all that harmful.

At his prolonged silence, the girl seemed to lose her confidence. Her shoulders slumped forward. “Right. Forget I said anything. I’m being stupid.”

Rex made up his mind. Taking a deep breath, he leaned down and kissed her.

The Padawan froze in surprise. For a long moment he held the chaste, simple kiss. Then he was drawing back, and he saw even her lekku had turned pink.

“Um.” She scratched her arm, looking away. “Thanks.”

Rex cleared his throat. He looked around the hallway, anywhere but at the girl.

He was never,  _ever_  going to tell anyone about this.

She gave a cough. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything down this hall.” The girl was back to business a little too quickly, her words coming out a little too fast. She hid another cough behind her hand. “All of these rooms have been locked down.”

“There might be a supply room in the C Wing we haven’t checked yet.” He pulled up a map on his wrist comm. It was going to be one hell of a walk to get there, through virus-choked corridors.

Ahsoka’s cough wasn’t subsiding. The girl bent over, hacking like she was trying to bring up a lung.

“I don’t like this, sir. I think we should head back.” The virus concentration was far too high out here. Besides, he had a niggling feeling Ahsoka had just used the chore as an excuse to get him alone. Sneaky little Jedi. He’d have to find her a real date back when they got to civilization. Hopefully that would cure her of this odd little crush of hers.

She grabbed on to his arm.

“Commander?”

Her coughing wouldn’t stop. She clung to him, her face red as she gasped for breath between spasms of coughing. A cold sweat stood out on her skin.

He held her upright. “Whoa there. I’ve been told I’m a pretty good kisser, but it’s nothing worth fainting over.”

Ahsoka spat flecks of blood onto her hand.

Captain Rex grabbed the girl, sweeping her into his arms. “We’re heading back. Now.”

“I can walk,” she protested. The words were shallow gasps, and immediately countered as she began coughing once more in earnest.

“Not happening.” He set off back down the hallway, the Padawan held safely in his arms.

Normally her slight weight would have been nothing to him. But now his breath wouldn’t seem to come. Each step felt like it was dragged through quicksand.

And the lack of oxygen was getting to his head. Around him the mist was starting to blur into shapes. Enemies, or friends… he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. At one point he saw yellow eyes, glaring at him through a shroud of fog.

_Come on, Rex. Get it together. You’ve been through worse._

He tried to distract himself by thinking of an example. Christophsis had been bad. But no, even that hadn’t been like  _this_.

When he finally made it back to the safe room he knocked on the door, and more or less collapsed inwards when it opened. “Representative Binks!”

The Gungan hurried over, his environment suit squeaking. Of all of them, only Jar-Jar Binks was still uncontaminated. Figured. Binks took Ahsoka into his arms when Rex pushed her into them.

“Keep her head elevated off the floor.” He collapsed against the wall, struggling to catch his breath. “The virus is heavier than air, so the concentration should be less if she sits up.”

Jar-Jar nodded. He shrugged her up higher in his arms; with his height it brought her well clear of the worst of it.

It was all they could do for her.

He closed his eyes, then, and waited for the virus to finish its job.

The others in the room were silent, lying unresponsive where they were. He didn’t even have the energy left to check on them. An occasional cough echoed around the room, the only sign that at least someone else was still alive.

He slid sideways down the wall, until he was lying down. Might as well be comfortable in his last few minutes.

Nothing to do now but wait.

He thought about Ahsoka. He had wronged her badly before, dismissing her due to her youth. The moment she had handed him back his helmet, Rex knew he would die for her without hesitation. She would have made a great Jedi.

He thought about the 501st. Who would take over without him? They’d been losing so many commanders lately, it was getting hard to replace them. Probably Sergeant Appo.

He thought about Fives and Echo, those two boys they had picked up from Rishi. Thank god he hadn’t brought their squad along on this mission. They deserved a little bit of a break after all they’d seen. Before they had to once again come face to face with cold grief.

Mostly, though, he thought about Cody.

Ever since that evening on Kenosha he hadn’t spoken to Cody. He hadn’t even let himself think about the commander, for fear that he might remember the taste of Cody’s lips, the feel of his skin so warm and pliant under Rex’s fingers, the heat and scent and sound of a moment that should have never happened.

He wondered if Cody would carve  _Rex_  into his skin.

Rex’s body began to shut down, stopping unnecessary processes to preserve its critical functions. He felt unconsciousness tugging him down like a stone tied to his feet, dragging him deeper into the depths of a vast lake. Thoughts were getting harder to come up with.

His last coherent thought was of Cody’s smile, the two of them sharing a drink together.

_See you on the other side._

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cody tries – and fails – to get the captain off his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place over episodes 1:19 though 1:21.

Two hundred light-years away, Cody scanned through the forms piled up on his datapad and felt something akin to a scream building in the space under his tongue.

A full-scale invasion took mountains of paperwork to plan. There were insertion points to map out, supplies to order (so many of those), troop reassignments, intelligence reports, and of course, battle plans to lay. It was a constant math equation: a subtle shift here, a redeployment there, to see whether the cascade of ripple effects would mean a marginally better chance of not having the entire fleet slaughtered. A week of this exhausting mathematical chess, and he now pinned their chances at slightly better than half.

Cody couldn’t remember a time when he had been more stressed.

Or a time when he had less wanted to deal with work.

Rex was haunting his mind. Whenever Cody heard footsteps approaching, it was Rex’s feet he heard. Any flash of blue armor was Rex’s blue pauldron. He couldn’t even lean against a window without feeling Rex’s hands on his shoulders, taking his chin in hand, pressing him back against a wall.

And now Cody wasn’t even sure he was alive.

Force alive, that captain was going to be the death of him. He didn’t… it wasn’t about the kiss. The kiss that should not have happened. That had been a mistake, but it wasn’t about that. It  _wasn’t_.

( _So why couldn’t he get it off his mind_?)

He was worried for his friend, that’s all. Two days ago Cody had received a report, saying that a 501st squad was trapped in a contagion-filled laboratory on Naboo. The report had been unenthusiastic about their chances of survival.  _No known cure exists_ , it read.  _One hundred percent fatality rate within 48 hours._

Fifty-one hours had already passed. Which meant that certainly…

His hand tightened on the datapad. No. Rex wouldn’t go down to a  _virus._  That wasn’t Captain Rex, the clone hero with the twin blasters.

_One hundred percent fatality rate._

 “Commander Cody.” Admiral Block, master of the  _Negotiator_ , hailed him from across the bridge. Cody blinked back into reality; he had been staring unseeing at his datapad for the last several minutes. Oops. “Over here, please.”

 Cody rose, smoothed out the wrinkles in his gray bridge uniform **,**  and came to a respectful stop on the other side of the holoprojector. Around him the bridge was a quiet hum of efficiency. Clone troopers mingled side-by-side with human officers, interjecting the air with soft murmurs of ‘ _check these coordinates’_ and  _‘did you verify this transmission?’_.

The admiral pulled up a document on the projector. He was a sallow-faced gentleman, as humorless as the gray uniform he wore. “Take a look at this requisition form, if you please.”

Cody squinted. His signature was on the bottom, but he only vaguely recalled the contents. He had done at least thirty similar forms today so they were all starting to blend together in his mind. Gunship fuel, apparently.

“Do you see an issue with it?” Admiral Block’s voice was flinty, and though he never raised his tone above a conversational level the words somehow managed to carry throughout the bridge.

When Cody hesitated, Block tapped a button and zoomed in on a section. “Look here.”

Ah. Cody saw the issue.

“The order was supposed to be for twenty thousand gallons of fuel. But you added an extra zero to the end, so instead this request is for  _two hundred thousand gallons_.” The admiral’s steely gray gaze rose to trap Cody’s. “We would have sent it off if one of the mechanics hadn’t noticed the error and brought it to my attention.”

Cody felt a subtle shift in the air as all around the bridge, attention swung towards him.

_Commander Cody made a mistake?_

No doubt the chow hall would be buzzing about this tonight.

He set his shoulders straight. “I’ll fix it right away, sir.”

“Don’t bother. I already corrected it and sent it off. After checking over your other forms for similar errors, of course.” He waved a hand and the form disappeared from the projector. “My confidence in you is shaken, Commander Cody.”

The words stung like he had slapped Cody across the face.

Behind the admiral’s shoulder one of the non-clone officers leaned against the wall, watching with undisguised interest. What a rare sight, to see Commander Cody dressed down. What a treat.

Block continued, each softly spoken word another twist of the screw. “I can’t have officers making mistakes like this. If this form had gone out, soldiers on another battlefield could have found themselves without fuel as their supplies were rerouted to us. War efforts driven to a halt because of a misplaced zero.”

Cody swallowed. He wished he were back in his armor. “I’ll put in more effort in the future, sir-”

“Will you?” His words cut Cody off sharply. “This has been going on for some time now, commander. It’s becoming a habit; you’re distracted, edgy, unfocused. If it continues, I will be forced to take matters up with General Kenobi himself.”

That made Cody’s eyes widen.

A bubble of silence radiated out, with Cody at its epicenter. The clones nearest their location had stopped working entirely, turning their heads to watch out of the corner of their eyes.

“Please, admiral,” he said quietly. “It was a mistake. I’ll take extra precautions from here out. There’s no need to bring General Kenobi in to this.”

It was one thing to have the admiral publicly discipline him; he could endure it, had endured far worse. But to see the disappointment on Kenobi’s face….

As if on cue, just then the door to the bridge opened. “Commander on deck!” came the call, and the clones all at once snapped to attention.

“At ease,” General Kenobi said as he entered.

Cody closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It was moments like these that made him convinced there was some kind of higher power. Only a god could be so hilariously cruel.

Admiral Block waved his hand, dismissing the requisition form. “What a remarkable stroke of luck for you, Cody.”

Funny – Cody certainly didn’t feel  _lucky_.

A gust of cool air precipitated the general’s silent arrival at their holoprojector. General Kenobi looked exhausted. Even at the best of times Kenobi was a quiet, introspective man, but now he gazed around himself with the lethargic air of a man who had seen it all and had nothing else to give. His chest rose and fell in a silent sigh.

“Back to business, shall we?” he said cheerfully, but the look on his face made it clear it was forced.

The business with the requisition form was suddenly driven from Cody’s mind. If the general was back, it meant that the Naboo business was finished. For better or worse, the fate of everyone involved had been decided.

Rex was either alive, or….

He found his mouth had gone dry.

On the surface he remained calm, showing no sign of the nervousness that suddenly thrummed through his veins. “Welcome back, sir. How was your mission?”

Obi-Wan reached out and placed a hand on Cody’s shoulder. For a moment his false veneer of cheerfulness gave way to one of genuine, unguarded warmth. “It’s good to see you again, Cody. Remind me next time to bring you along when Anakin comes up with one of his crazy rescue schemes. We could have used someone with your genius for strategy.”

Admiral Block made a  _hmph-_ ing noise that neither man attended to.

“So it went well, did it?” Cody asked, fearing the answer even as he spoke the words.

“Indeed. Both Senator Amidala and Representative Binks were unharmed. Ahsoka, too. All in all it could have been much worse.” Then he turned with an intent look to the battle plans pulled up on the holoprojector. It appeared the conversation had been totally stripped from his mind.

_Rex. I’m asking you about Rex, just say something about Rex…._

“Now, tell me what you’ve got so far for this invasion strategy. Ry’loth’s a big planet, and our numbers are not nearly what they should be. We’ll have to get creative if we want to win.”

Cody couldn’t wait any longer; couldn’t hold his tongue a minute more. “Sir, about Naboo. Is Rex…?”

Obi-Wan paused, caught by the sudden change in topic. “Hm?”

“Did he…?” Cody couldn’t bring himself to say it.

The Jedi Master finally backtracked and realized what Cody was asking. “Oh. Yes, the good captain should make a full recovery.”

Cody had to lean on the table. Relief struck him so hard it made his legs weak.

“I say, Cody, are you quite alright?”

_Rex was alive. Rex was still alive._

“I’m fine, sir. Just a headache.” He straightened. 

The admiral was giving him a narrow-eyed look.

“Well then,” Kenobi said lightly, “tell me how we’re going to win back the planet Ry’loth.”

 

\------

 

Lessu: one of the twin capital cities of Ry’loth, and the beating heart of the Twi’lek homeworld.

And currently home to over ten thousand triumphant clone troopers.

Cody picked his way down the main market thoroughfare, taking note of his surroundings. Everywhere there were signs of the war: overturned stalls, battle droids lying inactive in the streets, blaster marks on the walls of homes and schools. Lessu was beautiful, and prosperous, but it would be a long time before the signs of occupation were erased. Especially in the eyes of the people, who were gaunt and thin; they watched the clone troopers from doorways, their expressions guarded, unable to trust that they were finally freed.

Cody was proud of his men. Many had paid the price, but a better success would be difficult to find. The Twi’lek people were saved; knowing that, perhaps the souls of his dead brothers could find peace. Their deaths would be honored.

And there were so very, very many of them to honor.

“Cody!”

He turned around. A shorn-headed clone hailed him, his ARC armor still dusty and war-battered. His red helmet was tucked under one arm.

“Commander Ponds,” Cody greeted. They exchanged a warm handshake. “I see General Windu hasn’t managed to get you killed yet.”

“Not for a lack of trying. Taking Lessu was probably the hardest thing we’ve done in a while. Word on the holonet is that you were the one who put my 91st here?”

Cody couldn’t keep a smile from touching the corners of his mouth. Rare was the chance he had to speak to Mace Windu’s personal commander. The clones fell in to step together. “I know how much you love a challenge.”

Ponds looked like he’d been through the wringer, but it seemed his good humor had come out intact. He elbowed Cody lightly. “In that case, sir, you’re buying me a drink when all this is over.”

“Gladly. This was a hell of a target to take.” He gestured, the motion encompassing the city around them. “Whatever training you’re putting the 91st through, it’s clearly paying off.”

“I can’t take all the credit for that one – must as I hate to admit it, we would have been sunk without the 501st providing air support. Which, unfortunately, their captain is well aware of. He called me up just to gloat about it.”

Cody’s feet came to a standstill. Ponds glanced back at him.

“You spoke to Rex?”

“Well, of course. You just missed him, actually. He left not thirty minutes ago to check the eastern side’s defenses.” Ponds was giving his a curious look. Seems a lot of people were doing that, these days. “I’ll let him know you were looking for him.”

“Don’t bother.” Cody rubbed his forehead. “So he’s… doing well, then?”

“Who, the captain?” Ponds rolled his eyes. “I doubt an entire tank battalion could take him out. The man’s indestructible.”

 _If only that were true,_  Cody thought faintly, remembering the report that had landed on his desk not so very long ago.

Ponds cast his voice lower. "Frankly, I don't know what you see in him. Captain Rex is too rash, if you ask me."

"He  _is_  rash," Cody agreed. He was well aware of the rivalry between his two top subordinates, a mutual dislike stretching all the way back to their Academy days. It never failed to bemuse him. "Never stops to think before acting, does he?"

"Never has. Not since we were all troopers."

"And refuses to take no for an answer."

"It's a miracle he hasn't gotten his team killed yet. You're a saint for putting up with him, sir."

No - it wasn't a miracle. It was Rex's genius. What seemed like luck to anyone else was the combination of his cool under pressure, creative problem-solving, and complete inability to feel fear.

"He does drive me crazy," Cody said softly.

Ponds’ wrist-com started beeping at him. He frowned at the thing. “That would be General Windu. Sorry, Cody. Duty calls. We’ll share a drink later, alright?”

“Stay safe, Ponds.” He meant it. There were far too few clones like Ponds in the Grand Army of the Republic.

Ponds punched him playfully in the shoulder, before donning his helmet and melding seamlessly into the thoroughfare.

So Rex was here, in the city. The thought made several conflicting emotions shiver through Cody’s limbs.

Force alive, what was wrong with him? Why was he reacting like this? That night on Kenosha had been a mistake. He should have been furious about his subordinate’s unasked-for and unwanted advances. He should have written him up for misconduct.

But he hadn’t. Cody had  _let_  Rex kiss him. Worse, he had returned the gesture. Had moaned like a prostitute when Rex shoved him up against the wall. The recollection made him wince, hands squeezing into fists.

He was a broken clone. That was the only explanation for it. Why else would he be unable to rid his mind of these images – these thoughts – of doing impossible things with a man he called  _brother_?

He was obsessed with Captain Rex.

He looked down at his comlink. As Rex’s superior, it would only take a single button-press to summon the clone captain to him. It would be so simple. He could fix his mistake: tell the captain off for his actions, let him know just how  _unwanted_  it had been.

And then maybe, seeing those blue jaig eyes approaching, he could finally put these ghosts to rest.

_Force, I need a drink._

His comlink blinked an incoming transmission. Cody startled – Rex?

But no, it was General Kenobi who flashed into visibility in his palm. The cyan hologram showed him standing, hands folded peaceably into his sleeves. “Cody, could you come to my tent, please?”

“Right away, sir.”

The sun was setting as he made his way through the camp. A hot, dry wind kicked up dust, and brought a breath of clean air ruffling through Cody’s hair. After days of smelling nothing but sweat and the plasma tang of blaster fire, he drank in the scent of Ry’loth. The Twi’lek homeworld smelled of heat, and sky, and underneath it the subtle sweetness of desert plants. It smelled like an endless summer evening.

He knocked on the general’s door. Normally a general would be staying in town, renting a room at the finest hotel or using the mayor’s guesthouse, but Kenobi was not like most generals. He had insisted they set him up a tent in the middle of operations.

“Come in, please,” came the call, and Cody entered.

After the heat of Ry’loth, the interior came as a shockingly cool burst of air. Even for a Jedi the room was spartan, with only a table, chairs, and a bedroll spread out on the ground. Cody appreciated General Kenobi’s simple tastes. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

A rustle of cloth; Obi-Wan appeared at his shoulder. He shut the door behind them, sealing them in together. “Yes. Please, sit.”

That was never a good sign. “If it’s alright with you, I’d prefer to stand.”

“As you will, Cody.” Obi-Wan sat down at the table, a faint flicker of pain crossing his features as he did. “I’m not as young as I once was. This war is taking more out of me than I would like to admit.”

“Sir?”

The Jedi shook his head slightly, as if clearing it. “Never mind. I asked you here to talk about you. Frankly, Cody, I’m worried.”

Cody said nothing, but in his stomach nervousness began to churn.

 “You’ve been… distracted. Unfocused. At first I thought it was just a fluke, but Admiral Block told me that there were several altercations on the  _Negotiator_ in my absence. And while I cannot fault your excellent handling of the invasion, I sense that your emotions are…” he paused. “Clouded.”

Cody’s guts clenched in a spike of sudden fear. He forgot Jedi could sense emotions. How much could he sense? What if he could… feel, somehow, Cody’s mistake? His obsession? Jedi powers were ill-defined and often resourceful.

Did he already know?

Kenobi’s brow furrowed slightly. “It seems I am on to something. What’s troubling you, Cody? It’s not like you to be so unfocused.”

“I…” he looked away, breaking eye contact. His palms were sweating. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t say.”

 

\------

 

That was  _not_  an answer Obi-Wan had been expecting.

Of all his years commanding clone troopers, they had unanimously proven themselves focused, diligent, and professional. They barely even showed personalities outside of their enthusiasm for the fight.

Hearing Cody say he had problems he couldn’t talk about was like a droid telling him it didn’t particularly feel like being helpful today. They just simply weren’t programmed that way.

His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the commander. He reached out with the Force, probing Cody’s emotional signature. Clones carried their emotions buried deep, hidden beneath layers of protocol and armor that was as much psychological as physical.

Obi-Wan sensed confusion. He sensed worry, and loneliness, and beneath it all a touch of fear.

Something very serious was bothering clone commander CC-2224.

“You’ve never hesitated to come to me before.” Obi-Wan rose to his feet, approaching the commander slowly, like he would a scared tauntaun. With each step closer he was able to more sharply hone in on those underlying feelings.

Yes, the commander felt fear… fear of an unknown path. Not just that, though – fear of being discovered….

This had been going on for a while, he realized. He’d been feeling these emotions from Cody since – when was it? The Rishi incident?

Had something happened there? Something he had missed?

Cody stepped back. “Please, sir. I can’t. Not with this.”

“I can’t force you to confide in me.” He could, actually, using the Force. But that was a dark path indeed. “But I also can’t help you if you don’t. Are you certain you won’t share whatever is troubling you?”

There was a long moment. He sensed Cody on the verge, the words waiting, pregnant in the silence that stretched that moment. Then that moment passed; his emotions closed off like a shutter drawn down, and again he said, “I can’t, sir.”

Obi-Wan nodded faintly. “Very well.” This was a mystery that would have to solve itself, in its own time. So long as the man continued to perform in the field, he would give Cody the space he requested.  

Though he would keep his eye on the commander closely, in the future.

 

\------

           

Cody left the tent feeling even worse than when he entered.

By now the sun had fully set; dusty twilight settled like a blanket over the city. People were headed home, content with a full day’s work behind them. Around him the base was undergoing a shift-change, and more than one clone had grabbed his brothers to check out the local nightlife. It all seemed so… normal.

Cody looked down at his comlink.

He was doing wrong by Obi-Wan. This obsession of his with Captain Rex was placing his job, his men, everything they’d worked for in jeopardy. Obi-Wan trusted him to take care of the situation. Trusted him to put the war first.

He would have to put this behind him.

In a sudden burst of emotion, Cody ripped his comlink off. He let it fall to the dirt.

_He’s just another clone. Just another subordinate. It meant nothing._

Whatever strange connection he and the captain had, it was over. For now, he had a war to attend to.

The TOC was busy when he entered, with clones clocking in and out for the shift-change. The mobile command center was small, cramped, and tended to smell unpleasantly like whatever its occupants had eaten last. It was, in short, home.

“Commander!” The nearest clone – Wooley – swung around in his chair. “I was just about to page you. We got new orders for you to look at.”

Cody took a glance at the holo-projector. A hologram planet rotated in the air, with a long list of data beneath it. “What am I looking at here?"

“Malastare,” Wooley announced. “Orders just came down today from the Senate. All of us are jetting off as soon as Ry’loth’s fully secured.”

Malastare? Home of the Dugs? This war was getting stranger by the day. “Explain.”

Wooley bent over the plans, outlining it in quick, broad strokes with the confidence of a practiced trooper. Cody found himself nodding. 

Yes, he thought to himself, this was much better. This was what he was meant to do. In a sense it was freeing, finally choosing to rid himself of emotional attachment.

If he cut it off, it could never hurt him.     

“So that’s the basics,” Wooley finished. “I know I’m just a trooper, sir, but I don’t see how these numbers will add up. If we thought Ry’loth was hard, Malastare is going to be ten times worse.”

“The senate wouldn’t throw us in there without a plan.” He motioned towards one of the sectors. “Pull up a detailed overview of this area-”

A loud voice broke through his conversation. “Hey, captain! Welcome back!”

Cody looked up.

Rex was standing in the doorway. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realization.

Rex stopped dead in his tracks.

Somewhere a trooper shouted a welcome at him, but Rex did not hear it. Like a black hole his gaze was drawn irresistibly towards one thing, and one thing only: a clone in a yellow visor, with commander’s stripes on his shoulderpad.

A quick succession of complex and indescribable emotions flew through the captain at that moment.

It was like the moment of tension before a battle broke out: watching the droids coming closer, your finger tensed over the trigger and waiting, waiting, as step by step the battle approached, only for that moment to finally arrive in a blast of heat and fire and adrenaline.

It was like the sight of a dropship approaching when you were nearly overrun; that rush of relief that made your limbs weak with relief and infinitely strong at the same time.

It was like walking relaxed through your own base, off-duty, and hearing the whistle of an incoming mortar shell.

Cody was here.

Cody raised his head. From behind their helmets, their gazes locked.

_I should say something_ , Rex thought rather redundantly, and opened his mouth.

His brain stuttered to a halt.

Total shutdown. For a long moment they simply stood there, two officers frozen in space staring at each other, neither saying a word. But what could he say?

When Rex failed to say anything, Cody spoke up instead. “I’m going to have to read these reports more in-depth,” he told his subordinate at the holodesk. “Send the rest to my personal datapad. I’ll take a look at it tonight.”

“Oh… yes, sir,” Wooley said, sounding slightly mystified. “Have a good evening, sir.”

Cody walked past Rex out the door. Their arms brushed from how closely he passed by, but Cody’s head did not turn, did not move to acknowledge the captain.  

With his emotions still a tangled knot inside his chest, Rex turned and followed him into the Ry’loth evening.

The rising moon had brought in a cold front; outside the air was tinged with a hint of chill. And it was quiet. Everyone had either left already or settled in to work, leaving the base still and empty. Rex’s boots crunched on the soil, echoing the commander’s footsteps just ahead. Cody would not turn around to look at him.

He took a second to gather his thoughts.

_Ok, Rex, this is it. Just... Say something. Apologize. Make a joke. Sure, it's been weeks since you've spoken to him, and the last time you saw him face-to-face you made some errors in judgment, but you've got years of friendship behind it. That surely has to count for something. How mad can he be?_

They cut through between two buildings; a dark shadow cast across their path, deep as a moonless night. There Rex finally stopped. When his footsteps fell silent, Cody too paused, his head cocked halfway back.

He removed his helmet, preparing himself to speak. He took a deep breath.

“Commander,” he began.

Cody whirled and punched him.

Rex stumbled back, his helmet skittering through the dirt. He felt more surprise than pain - that would come later, undoubtedly. Cody never threw a punch that left anything less than bruises.

Okay, so maybe he was a  _lot_ mad.

Cody was shaking out his hand, letting his breath hiss through his teeth. "You always did have a thick skull," he muttered.

Rex began to realize he had vastly misjudged the situation.

He hadn’t realized how furious Cody was. But no, it made sense. With a sinking feeling, he realized just how  _poorly_  he had treated Cody. All of it – every mistake – was because he kept pushing, even when Cody had told him to let it go. 

Just another sign of Rex’s failure: that the unshakeable, the implacable Commander Cody would finally be brought down by not an enemy’s blaster but by his closest friend.

Rex cast his eyes down. “I deserved that and more.”

The base really was quiet tonight. It was quiet enough that he heard Cody’s soft intake of breath.

Yes, this was his fault. And it was up to him to fix it. The captain went to one knee, head bowed in supplication.

“Sir, I’m… sorry, if my conduct has been out of line. You know what I’m referring to. I had been drinking, and… it was a mistake.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll accept any punishment you think is appropriate.”

“ _Rex._  Shut up.”

Rex raised his head, his mouth snapping closed.

Cody’s shoulders slumped in a sigh. “Why is nothing around you easy?”

“Sir?”

“Nobody is getting punished. I just want this whole… incident… behind us.” His voice took on a rueful tone through his articulator. Rex wished the commander would take off his helmet; it was impossible to tell his expression through the implacable visor. “You’re the best damn officer in my chain of command, and I’d be a fool to give you up.”

Rex had been steeling himself for anger. He was prepared for the commander to lash out, to deny him, or even to demote him on the spot. (Though he would have fought tooth and nail if Cody tried to transfer him away from his men.) What he wasn’t ready for was forgiveness.

He was starting to feel idiotic, wondering if perhaps he had missed something. What was going on in the commander’s head? On his life, Rex would never be able to fathom that limitless depth that was Cody’s brilliant, frustrating, beautiful, bewildering mind.

Cody reached out a hand. “Get off your knees, Rex. No brother should ever kneel to another.”

Rex took the proffered hand. A strong arm pulled him to his feet.

And just then the nerve endings in his face decided to wake up and remember that he had been cold-clocked in the jaw.

He pressed a hand to the spot, feeling the heat and swelling under his palm. The pressure distracted him from the sharp stinging sensation. “Ow,” he said.

Cody examined the injury in the faint light. “You’re... going to want to put some bacta on that.”

“That bad, huh?” The smile that crept across his face sent pain shooting through his jaw. “Next time remind me to leave the helmet on.”

“Sorry,” Cody said, and even through the helmet Rex could feel his guilt. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Well, I _was_ being an idiot."

He expected a chuckle, maybe a little grin. What he got was a long, painful, enduring silence.

So,” Rex finally threaded into the awkward space between them, to say something, _anything._  “What now?”

Cody bent, retrieving Rex’s helmet. He brushed dust off the plasteel before dropping it back into its owner’s hands.

“What happens now,” the commander said, “is I go study the Malastare reports, you prepare for morning exercises, and we both forget anything happened.”

It was the ideal solution – a return to how things had been before. Like Rex had never forced himself on the commander. Like he had never gotten a glimpse of the raw pain lurking on Cody’s skin.

And yet the thought of going back to how it had been – watching Cody draw ever further away, while he stood aside helpless to assist – made the tangle of emotions in Rex’s chest turn to an icy lump.

But the commander wasn’t going to listen to such arguments now. The stinging pain on his jawline promised that. For now, the only path open to him was a tactical withdrawal.

He sighed, taking his helmet back. “Right.”

\------

“That’s some pretty awful shooting, Rexie.”

Rex let his hands drop, guns sliding into their holsters. Behind him Ahsoka leaned against the nearest boulder with her arms folded.

He had thought some late-night target practice might help him clear his head, but so far twenty well-pockmarked target droids later and he was no closer to a solution. All he had earned for his troubles was yet another mess to clean.

The target practice area – in reality just a bare patch of Ry’lothi soil on the far outskirts of the base, the same as a dozen like it – had been abandoned for the night. The floodlights were off, leaving the place awash in moonlight. Even without lights on he could see the burn marks of laserfire covering the ground, the rock walls. His shots were as erratic as his thoughts tonight.

With a sigh he reached down, picking up the nearest scrap heap that had, half an hour ago, been a B-2 battle droid. “Anything I can help you with, Commander Tano? It’s a bit late to be inspecting the troops.”

“Hey.” She hopped up on the boulder, her legs folding beneath her in a natural Jedi pose. “I can tell when someone’s got something on their mind. And you have got a serious case of the grumps.”

_The grumps?_  It was the kind of thing no clone would be caught dead saying, much less a Jedi. Only Ahsoka, indeed.

She tilted her head, lekku sliding down her shoulder. Her eyes were owlish in the moonlight. “So… is there anything going on with you?”

“Nothing to report, sir,” he said.

She frowned. Ahsoka always looked so serious, an expression that sat oddly on her cherub-like face. There was something vaguely tragic about Padawan Ahsoka Tano. Hers was a face made for smiles and laughter and teasing; she would have grown up to be a heartbreaker, if it weren’t for the Jedi Code. “You know you can talk to me, Rex.”

“I appreciate that, sir, and I genuinely do. But there’s nothing going on.”

She flicked her fingers at a severed droid head. A pulse of Force hit it and it went bouncing across the dirt field. “Oh, okay, so you just felt like massacring a battalion of targets… for what, the fun of it?”

First Cody, and now Ahsoka. Rex’s desire to argue was being worn down. Couldn’t Jedi read emotions? So why couldn’t she tell how much he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts right now?

But he would never say that. He threw the droid into a scrap heap, heading back for the next one. In the morning a cleaner would come through and replace them with new targets. “A trooper never needs an excuse to shoot up some clankers.”

“Aw, come on!” A hint of teenaged whine peeked through her words, betraying her Jedi maturity and revealing, for the moment, that she was still a fifteen-year-old at heart. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?”

He did. But this was different.

“I mean, after Naboo…” She trailed off. He knew exactly what she was referring to, and the memory made his insides crawl in embarrassment. It had been an extreme moment, he rationalized, and they both had thought they would die, but still – she was supposed to  _forget_  about that. “Aren’t we friends?”

Rex paused, a battle droid’s heavily damaged torso already hefted under his arm. She had a point. And hadn’t Rex gotten on Cody’s case for doing exactly the same thing? Refusing to confide in a friend?

This realization made up his mind for him.      

He dropped the parts into the pile and then, leaving the rest where they lay, came over to sit next to Ahsoka. The Togruta scooted over to give him room. He sensed in her a sudden thrum of energy, the weight of her attention fully on him. “You realize, this is just between us.”

“You can trust me.” Her smile was disarming, her gaze almost painfully direct. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

Hoping to Force this was the right choice, he looked down at his hands, rubbing the fingers of his gloves together. “I’ve got….” How could he put this? “Someone who has been on my mind a lot.”

Beside him he felt Ahsoka stiffen.

“Are you alright?” He glanced her way only to see her quickly turn aside, Padawan chain swinging.

“I’m fine!” Her upbeat response was at odds with the way she suddenly wouldn’t look at him.

“You don’t… sound very fine.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, and regaining her emotional balance, she turned back to face him. Her skin had gone pink, but she otherwise seemed back in control. “Just… surprised. Whoever she is, she must be really amazing to catch your eye.”

Something in this conversation had gone very, very awry. "Whoa there, it's not like that," he began to protest. Then his mind suddenly caught up with his mouth.

Was it, though?

Was this about more than just a severed friendship?

He certainly hadn't been complaining when the commander was straddling his hips, after all. And yeah, it had been a long time since he had had any 'recreational activity', but surely that alone wasn't enough to make him jump on the first willing flesh that offered itself to him.

Was he attracted to Cody?

The realization struck him to the floor. That was impossible. Cody was… he was a brother. His oldest friend. Just because he had done some things with him, it didn’t mean Rex was… bent like that.

Couldn’t be.

_Oh, but it could…._

Ahsoka waved a hand in front of his face. "You still with us? Calling Captain Rex. Come in, Rex."

"Huh?" He shook off his daze, letting his thread of thought drop to the floor. "Sorry, what were we talking about?"

"You were about to pretend that you aren't totally head over heels for this mystery lady.”

“It’s not a….” He stopped. Ah, frakk it. It was easier to roll with that then try to explain. “We’re just… friends. That’s all.”

_Right. Keep saying that and maybe it’ll be true._

“Who is it?” Her voice dropped lower. “Is it Master Secura?”

“No!”

“Shaak Ti, then?” Her eyes widened. “Or… not Master Luminara?”

 “It’s  _not a Jedi_.”

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Her cheeks puffed out in a long huff. “I gotta say, Rexie, I really didn’t expect to hear you have a girlfriend. Usually people mention something like that.”

“I  _don’t_ ,” he objected. “At least… Force, I don’t even know anymore.”

The tattooed marks on her forehead beetled as she frowned at him. “So what’s the problem?”

“We clones…. We’re not supposed to get attached. Not like that. A little bit of fun now and then, nobody is going to report that, but when emotions get tangled up… it becomes a problem.” He looked down at his armor. There wasn’t a piece left that wasn’t scratched and dented. “This is who we are. There’s no space for love in a war.”

A quiet pause followed his words. Ahsoka’s lashes, dusted by moonlight, dropped over her eyes as her gaze cast downwards. “I know what you mean,” she said. “Believe me, I know.”

He shook his head. “Jedi and clone troopers. What a messed up lot we are.”

“You can say that again.” She nudged him with her foot. “Hey, Rex. Have you thought about trying meditation?”

Meditation? Him? Just wait until the men got word of that. “No offense,” he said, “but that's more a Jedi's specialty.”

But once Ahsoka Tano caught the scent of an idea, she could be as relentless as a wompa in hunting it to its conclusion. Her eyes were already brightening with the thrill of a new chase, the chance to show the Force to another. “Luckily you’ve got one right here.” She sat up, holding out her hands. “It’s really easy. Let me show you how it works.”

“Right here? Now?”

“Why not?”

He could think of several reasons, actually. Starting with  _that’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard_  all the way to  _no, really, that sounds absolutely terrible._ He wasn’t a Jedi, he was just a clone. And the thought of opening his mind to her perusal made his skin itch. He eyed her proffered hands with distrust. “I don’t know about this, sir. You’re not going to… go digging around, are you?”

“I’m not going to compel your mind, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just a little guided group meditation.” She smiled at him, gesturing for him to join her. “Relax, it’s the first thing we learn to do as younglings at the temple. Just give me your hands.”

If Ahsoka said it would be fine, he could… trust her. He supposed.

He grudgingly placed his hands, palm down, in her much tinier ones. Her thumbs wrapped around his knuckles, coming to a rest on the armored plates there. Her grip was surprisingly firm.

“Close your eyes,” she instructed. “And get comfortable.”

_This must look so ridiculous_ , he thought to himself. A clone captain sitting on a rock with a Jedi girl, holding hands. Like an idiot.

“Focus,” she admonished. He guiltily straightened, closing his eyes. “Take a deep breath. Hold it… now let it out, and release your emotions with it.”

He did as she instructed, and was surprised to find himself feeling a little calmer. More centered, like the midst of a battle.

“Do it again. Feel your emotions release into the Force.”

Each breath he exhaled brought him that little bit more peace. It was something unlike he’d ever felt; he suspected Ahsoka was using some Force-trick to help him. It almost felt like he was leaving himself behind, in a way.

“Do you feel centered?”

Without opening his eyes he nodded, afraid that if he spoke the carefully-crafted illusion might shatter.

“Good. Now listen carefully to this part. Without opening your eyes I want you to feel the environment. Try to hear the rock. Sense the ground. Listen to the life occurring beneath the ground, beyond the walls of the base.”

What in the world was she talking about? He felt the hard rock under his knees, and when he focused, he could almost hear the sound of faraway creatures carried in on the wind, but that was all.

She sensed his confusion, and it seemed to him that a modicum of peace crept through to him along the contact they were making.

“Try focusing on your breathing again. This time, think about the particles of air as they pass into your body. The air around you becomes part of your lungs, then your bloodstream. You are the air itself.”

He took another breath. It seemed he could almost feel the shifting particles, brushing against his skin.

“The rock you are kneeling on is an extension of yourself. It, too, is an extension of the earth below. Feel the planet’s surface, the strength in it.”

He imagined the planet, vast and immovable underneath him. The dusty sand giving way to cool, hard bedrock, which in turn became molten magma.

“You are the earth. You are the air. The particles that make you came from the same Force that makes them; when you die they will join again. Everything in this way is connected.”

For just a second, a spark of understanding flared in his mind. Everything, all things great and small, were all one great moving unit, like the cells in his blood and his muscles working together to move his limbs. Even the momentary insight made him gasp; like seeing a glimpse of true infinity, he found himself blinded and awestruck.

On the one hand he was sitting on a boulder in the target practice area, but at the same time he was lifted above, sensing everything from the cosmic scale. It was a sensation unlike any other.

“Rex.” Ahsoka’s voice floated to him from across the void of understanding. “I’m here with you. Do you feel it?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Good. Now, think about the situation that is troubling you.”

He summoned the memories in question. But rather than feeling them he instead saw them, playing out before him like a movie. Like someone else’s troubles.

He felt like he was playing Captain Rex to himself, as if CT-7567 had just come to him to ask for guidance.  _What should I do about this, Captain?_

_Tell me what’s bothering you, trooper._

 He saw flashes of images all around him – almost all of them involving Cody.  _I don’t know, Cap. I always knew where I stood with him, but after_ that _–_ and here he saw the entire Rishi affair flash by, a montage of conversations and arguments and laughter and two bodies pressed close against a wall –  _I don’t know where we are._

_Maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants._

_I don’t even know what_ I _want._

_Only you can answer that for yourself. What is it you want, trooper?_

_…._

_I want…_

Images of Cody’s face flashed by. Memories of a lifetime shared, side by side on the battleground.

Drinks after victory. Late-night pranks. Laughter. Shoulders lent when grief grew too heavy for one. A secret smile, shared only between them. A presence he depended on like his own arm. Sleepless nights staying at a hospital bedside. A warm hand on his arm, promising  _it will be okay_.

_I want him_.

_Well then, trooper, looks like you have your objective. How are you going to achieve it?_

“Rex…” a voice pressed on the edge of his awareness, slipping into his trance. “Captain Rex. Remember. You’re sitting in a training area, in a base on Ry’loth. Come back now. CT-7567,  _wake up_.”

He opened his eyes and was surprised to find wetness on his face. He swiped his thumb along his cheeks – teardrops glistened on his pad.

Ahsoka smiled up at him. She looked weary. “That’s the Force,” she said.

Rex slowly unknotted his body. It took him a long moment to remember how to function inside his own skin again. How long had they been sitting here? The stars overhead had shifted their positions; judging from the silence in camp they had missed call-to-quarters.

“Force almighty, Ahsoka.” He licked his dry lips. “Is that what it’s like to be a Jedi? All the time?”

“A little.” She placed a hand on her head, swaying slightly. The girl waved off his concerned hand that reached to steady her. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

He thought about it for a second. Then he nodded.

“Yeah. I think I did.”

Her smile was the warmest thing he'd felt all day. “Then you know what to do."


	7. Chapter 7

Rex was calling.

Cody set his hydrospanner down, taking a long look at the comlink. He had long since abandoned his torso armor out of deference to the Ry’loth heat, and his arms were covered in grease up to his elbows. He grabbed a rag, wiping off his fingers slowly and methodically while on the workbench the comlink bleeped.

After their little “discussion” yesterday, Cody had neither seen nor spoken to the captain. Rex had gone off on a mission, leaving Cody alone and, frankly, bored. There were no more targets to take on this planet, no missions to overcome, and with the Malastare invasion far enough off in the distance that not even it could provide welcome distraction. For a clone, idleness was the worst fate of all. Action defined their existence.

But he wasn’t sure he wanted to speak to Captain Rex. The last time they had spoken, Cody had punched him in the face. Not his finest moment. Like a split lip the memory stung each time he pressed on it: Rex’s jawbone impacting his knuckles, the way the captain had looked up at him from his knees, moonlight catching on the slickened patch where a bruise had already begun to swell and form.

The comlink continued to jingle.

 _It could be important_ , he rationalized.  _Better pick it up. Just to see what he says. That’s all._

(And if nobody was there to see, then he wasn’t turning red. It didn’t happen.)

He pressed the answer button. “Cody speaking.”

“Commander,” came the greeting from a voice Cody was surprised to realize he had missed. “My locator says you're in the garage. Problems?”

“Just making myself useful.” He wiped away a bead of sweat that had escaped his hairline. “How went the mission?”

“Carnivore Company performed admirably. The eastern quadrant is cleared.”

Cody permitted himself a moment to smile. No less than he expected from the best. Regardless of everything in his life, the 501st was, and always would be, a source of pride to him. “Well done, captain. I think we can spare the 501st for a night to celebrate, don't you think?”

“Actually what I wanted to call you about, sir.” There was a pause where Rex cleared his throat. Cody leaned over the comlink. “This victory is as much yours as ours, sir. You haven't taken a break since we began this offensive, so I was wondering - that is, if you don't have anything pressing going on, sir....”

Cody glanced around. The garage was empty, alone except for the crates of spare parts. He was the absolute opposite of busy right now. “Spit it out, Rex.”

“Would you like to come out with us tonight, sir?”

That gave Cody pause. Drinking with the men? It sounded fun, honestly; a damn sight more enjoyable than tinkering alone with these worthless hunks of rust, or reading through inspection reports again. But he knew what effect a commander's presence would have on the mood. This was their night; he didn't want to ruin it by making them unable to relax. “I'm not sure that's a good idea, captain.”

“Alright, you don't have to come out with the boys. But at least come get dinner beforehand.”

There was something in Rex's tone that made Cody suspect more was going on than just a simple dinner invitation. Even knowing that the garage was empty, Cody’s gaze flitted around the room, verifying that he was alone. “Captain Rex. Are you hinting at something?”

There was a pause on the other end. And then….

“Only if you want me to be.”

Despite the heat, a shiver climbed Cody’s arms. “I thought we agreed to drop this, captain.”

“You dropped it. I never did.”

Cody felt himself thrown off-balance, as surely as if he had had his legs kicked out from under him. Damn Rex and his persistence. Damn his own inability to let go of the man. The captain was an addiction.

Rex was still speaking, forcing Cody to catch up. “If it’s not too forward, Cody,” he was saying, “I’d like to talk. Come get dinner with me. I promise nothing will happen that you aren’t comfortable with.”

He sat down, no longer trusting his legs. His blood was a rush in his ears.  _I’m being courted_ , he reflected deliriously.  _By my own subordinate._  He wondered when his life had turned into a Holonet soap opera without him even noticing.

“Why won’t you leave this alone?” he asked.

The comlink sat before him on the workbench, just an innocent piece of plasteel. But when he closed his eyes the voice seemed all around him; he could almost feel Rex standing behind him, one hip cocked against the bench as he leaned forward and murmured into Cody’s neck, “because it’s worth fighting for.”

The shiver returned to Cody’s limbs, this time traveling all the way up his spine. “You’re deluding yourself, Rex.”

“I’ve been a warrior for long enough to know which battles are worth the cost.”

He willed his pulse to slow down, but the blood in his veins staunchly refused **.** It figured; he could walk into a volley of laser fire without so much as breaking a sweat, but apparently the thought of someone being interested in him turned his nerves to water. “And what battle is this?”

It was an open move; daring Rex to meet his bet.

Rex always refused to back down.

“That depends on you, sir. I think I’ve made my intentions clear.”

“Very.” Cody felt like the air was getting harder to breathe.

“And?”

The words were so hard to get out. “I can’t.”

“You keep saying you  _can’t_ , Cody. Not once have I heard  _don’t want to_.” A long pause on the other said of the comlink, as Rex let these words sink in. And then, “come get dinner with me. What’s the worst that can happen?”

It was a terrible idea. And yet….

Cody rolled his sleeves down. “If you can promise to keep your hands to yourself, I'll see you at eighteen-hundred.”  Then he clicked the comlink off before Rex could say anything further.

He took a second to lean on the desk, looking at the pieces strewn around him. What had once been a tank motor was now only a puzzle of mislaid scraps, too complex for his now scattered thoughts to ever have a hope of fitting back together.

What was he doing?

His heart was in his throat. Where had his resolve gone? He was supposed to be done with this nonsense, not accepting dinner invitations.

“Force help me,” he muttered into the quiet of the garage. “I must be losing my mind.”

 

\------

 

Four hours later he was no closer to an answer; indeed, standing in the crowded streets of Lessu, Cody felt awkward and conspicuous in his white-gold armor. He sensed curious glances cast his direction, saw eyes quickly dart away whenever he caught them staring.

Should he have changed out of his armor? If it was just two troopers having a meal, then surely armor was perfectly appropriate – after all, it felt as natural to them as their skin. (Technically clones were always supposed to take off their armor when visiting friendly establishments for recreational reasons, though most clones ignored that rule. It turned out bartenders were more likely to hand out free drinks to a unit fully dressed for battle.) But if it was supposed to be a night to relax and forget about work, then perhaps Rex had expected him to dress down.

Cody wanted to laugh at his own indecision. This was ridiculous. Only Rex could make him feel uncertain about  _what to wear._

He finally caught sight of the captain through a gap in the crowds. His shorn blond hair stuck out conspicuously as he spoke to a pair of female Twi’leks, both of whom were taller than he. The ladies, both young and pretty, smiled at something Rex was saying.

Cody shook his head, halfway between exasperation and fondness. He should have known he’d find the captain chatting up the locals.

Some clones – possibly even the majority, not that there were surveys that went out for this kind of thing – went their whole lives without receiving so much as a smile from a pretty girl for their trouble. But Rex, it seemed, couldn’t head to any surface world without getting propositioned. Usually from the strangest creatures the galaxy could offer. (Of particular note was the time they went to Jabba’s Palace, where a Pa’lowick songstress decided she was sweet on him and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Poor man had ended up trading his ranks in for trooper armor just to hide from her.)

He crossed his arms, watching the Twi’leks flirting with Rex. After their brave salvation of Lessu, the clone troopers were being greeted everywhere as heroes. The two sapphire-skinned girls were obviously interested in the captain, judging by the way their eyelashes fluttered. No doubt bedding an officer would be the kind of story they’d brag about to their friends.

He frowned, unsettled by the annoyance sticking in his maw. Irritation at Rex? Or was that a hint of jealousy he was feeling?

Then Rex spotted him, and a flush came over the captain’s cheeks. He excused himself from the Twi’lek girls’ presence and walked over.

Cody arched an eyebrow. “Finding a date for later, captain?”

“It wasn't like that,” he protested, rubbing at his neck. The captain had abandoned his armor for local attire: a pale linen shirt and matching pants, with wraps around his forearms. Cody had to admit that with his tanned skin and shorn hair, the look was striking.

“Of course,” Cody responded before he could let that line of thought linger. “Is that why they’re still looking your way?”

The two girls were watching Rex and Cody, whispering together. Cody stared them down until they turned and ran off, still giggling.

“That was unnecessary, Cody,” Rex chided, but the words had no real bite to them. Almost at once the matter was forgotten, because now Rex turned and gave the commander his full attention.

Force, he looked good.

“Besides,” Rex said, a sly look in his eyes that Cody knew far too well, “I already have a date for tonight.”

Cody sighed. “Rex…”

“I know, I know. I gave you my word, I won’t do anything.” Rex straightened, withdrawing just a barest inch back to a more appropriate distance. “I appreciate you giving me another chance, sir. I haven’t been, well… entirely fair to you. I just wanted to talk tonight. That’s all.”

It wasn’t like Rex to allow any vulnerability to show through. That he would – that he trusted Cody enough to allow him a glimpse behind his warrior’s façade – was incredibly flattering. Enough that Cody found himself immediately and completely forgiving the captain any slight.

He said nothing of this, though, out of deference to the other man’s pride. It would be unseemly. “Do you have a destination in mind?”

It was a paltry apology, but Rex took it as it was intended. “Those ladies gave me the name of a place. Said it’s the best local fare, and out of the way. We should be able to avoid work for a few hours.” As he said this he took his comlink out of his pocket and flicked it into the ‘off’ position.

“Lead on,” Cody said, and the boys fell into step together.

In this part of Lessu, the crowds were comprised almost entirely of Twi’leks, dotted with the occasional service droid. Other than his own armor, there wasn’t a single trooper to be seen – understandably, as the men tended to cluster like moths around the nearest dive bar. This was the higher area of Lessu, well up on the side of the mountain; here the people were well-dressed, the shops affluent, and the view spectacular.

“Quite the interesting outfit,” the commander pointed out as they threaded their way through the locals. “Any particular reason, or just feeling native?”

Rex looked down, suddenly bashful. “Ahsoka’s idea, actually.”

Cody was going to press the point, but suddenly realized he didn’t want to know. He could absolutely believe that the pint-sized Jedi would decide to play dress-up with her clone troopers. And it wasn’t like he was complaining; indeed, he was finding it hard to keep his eyes off of Rex.

It was strange. Cody had never felt attracted to… well, much of anyone really (perhaps General Kenobi at one point, if he was being honest with himself), but certainly never another clone. The idea of finding one physically enticing was almost abhorrent. Imagining doing… those sorts of things… with a clone like Bly or Wolffe made him shudder inside.

What was it about Rex? 

Cody had met thousands and thousands of brothers; they all shared a common face, a common mind, a common background. Endless variations on the same melody. Cody enjoyed the company of Ponds and Wolffe and Jet, but it was no more than the bond he felt for all his brothers. Rex had the same qualities every clone in the Grand Army shared, so why was it that Cody's pulse quickened around him?

No, there was something about the captain. When Rex laughed it transformed his face; he was younger, different, his own unique being that nobody could ever emulate. 

There would never be another clone quite like CT-7567.

Rex glanced over and caught him staring. Cody’s head snapped forward, eyes front, refusing to acknowledge the flush that was stealing across his cheeks.

Rex chuckled.

The restaurant they eventually found their way to was a dim, cool hole in the wall whose unimpressive exterior belied the surprisingly cozy restaurant inside. Candlelight suffused the room with a soft glow, and the gentle murmur of chatter interspersed with a musician playing a traditional Twi’leki instrument.

A waiter looked at them as they entered, then did a double-take, his eyes flitting across their identical faces. Cody usually did not even register the expressions strangers sometimes gave them, but tonight he wished, just for once, he could be someone else. Someone other than one of two billion cloned Fetts.

(The thought felt like treachery.)

However the waiter’s professionalism overcame any misgivings he may have had about clones, and after a slight stumble over his words, he showed them to a table. Small, secluded, and comfortable; Cody sat down, thinking to himself that perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

They looked around the restaurant, at the couples sharing tables: young Twi’leki men and women, leaning in close across candlelit spaces, while soft music filled the air.

They both came to the same realization at the same time.

"Well," Cody said into the space between them, "isn't this romantic."

Poor Rex looked ready to die of embarrassment. "I swear, that wasn't my intention. I asked them for a nice place to take a friend."

"Were you asking them in Ryl?"

"Of course. They didn't know Basic."

That explained it. All officer-level clones were given a conversational introduction to the major trade languages: Ryl, Huttese, Wookiee and Geonosian, but Rex's grasp of languages left a lot to be desired. He had once nearly fouled up an entire operation because he mixed up the Geonosian words for ‘east’ and ‘west’.

As for what had happened here, it was obvious. There were fifteen words for ‘ _friend’_  in Ryl, and thirteen of them had romantic connotations. (The Twi’leks were a very… amorous people.)

Regardless, here they were. Cody decided to give the poor captain a break. "Relax. So long as they have wine, it doesn't matter where we are."

He picked up the menu: an electronic display-page, thin as a wafer and with delicate scrawl displaying their fare. It had five food options and almost two hundred alcoholic beverages. Cody sighed, scrolling through the list. So it was going to be one of _those_  places.

Rex was looking over the menu with an expression similar to his own. “Seriously, if you want to leave-”

“If I said it’s fine, it’s fine.” He fixed the captain with a raised eyebrow. “It’s a little late to be getting nervous.”

Rex took in a breath, muttered, “right,” and went back to scrupulously examining the five menu options, his ears starting to redden.

Commander Cody had enough. He set the menu down, drew up his chair, and stared the captain in the eye. “Okay, Rex. You said you wanted to talk. So let’s talk.”

The sudden turnabout caught Rex by surprise. “Oh… right.” Rex’s menu met the tabletop, and he saw the captain falter, ever so slightly, uncertain how to approach the topic now that it was finally here.

There was one thing Cody would never permit another to call him. He was a clone, one of the Boys in White, a glorified droid, and (according to more than one trooper) a cold-blooded bastard. But he was not, and never would be, a coward.

He was a soldier of the Galactic Republic, and all soldiers were taught to engage their battles head-on.

And rule number one of an engagement: know your target.

“No hedging. No edging around it or ridiculous insinuations. What do you want from me?”

Rex seemed to actually think about it. He tapped his fingers on the tabletop, a rhythmic drumming. His gaze dropped self-consciously.

“You,” he finally said. His voice was softer now, less confident. “I know I want you. Beyond that…” he spread his hands expansively, the gesture encapsulating his nebulous feelings on the matter.

Cody’s arms crossed. Leaning back in his chair, he tilted his head at Rex, examining him like he would a target downrange. “You want me to be… what, your lover?” His mouth twisted. “Your fuck buddy?”

Rex physically twitched at that.

“Why me? Why now? For years we’ve been friends.” Cody’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re just looking for an easy lay, there’s a bar down the road. You can have your pick.”

“It’s not about sex!” he snapped, and like blaster fire, the words left a ringing silence settling in their wake.

So of course that would be the moment the waiter would choose to arrive.

They fell silent, looking pointedly at their menus rather than each other. It was with strained politeness that the two officers ordered their drinks. The waiter, perhaps sensing the thick tension, took down their orders and then made a quick exit, throwing one last look over his lekku at the strange clone troopers eating in his establishment.

Once the waiter left Rex let out a long sigh. “It’s not about that,” he repeated, but much quieter. “It’s about you and me. It’s about the past we’ve shared. It’s about… Force, Cody, I don’t know.”

Cody’s eyebrow rose. “Interesting way you have of expressing your friendship.”

His words managed to get the captain flustered. “That wasn’t – don’t get me off track, Cody.” His chest rose and fell in a long sigh. “We just make sense, alright? We clones deserve so much better than we’ve gotten, and nobody in this galaxy is going to give it to us but each other. You’re… Cody, you’re the most important person in this whole damn galaxy to me. You’re my best friend.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly quite vulnerable. Captain Rex glanced around, and his next words were quiet, as if he was uncomfortable with saying them out loud. “That’s what I want, I guess – I want to have something that nobody else can say is theirs. I want to walk into battle knowing there’s someone out there who is waiting for me to return. And I want it to be you.”

Cody had no answer for that. He sat back, feeling more than a little overwhelmed, and simply stared at Rex.

Rex, who had just bared his soul to him. True, Cody had asked for it, but he hadn’t expected Rex to be quite so obliging. Hadn’t expected him to lay his heart on the table between them. Because what Rex was talking about…

It sounded like love.

“You know,” Rex said after a sufficient length of time had passed that it had grown awkward once more, “a response would be nice.”

Cody swallowed, finding himself totally at a loss for words. “What,” he finally said, “am I supposed to say?”

Rex looked just as on edge as he felt. After all, it hadn’t been Cody who just laid all his sabacc cards on the table. “For starters, you could tell me if you feel the same.”

Cody picked up his water glass, swirling the clear liquid to hide his tremor of nervousness. “That’s besides the point. At the end of the day, we both swore to serve the Republic, and that’s a Code I intend to live by.”

“Stop.” Rex placed his hand on Cody’s glass, pushing it down to the table so that he could stare directly into Cody’s eyes.  “You owe it to me, Cody. You asked me to be honest and I did. Now it’s your turn. Just tell me one thing, truthfully: do you feel the same?”

Cody looked at him. The words lined up on his tongue, ready to tumble through his teeth.  _No. It’s just in your head. It’s an abomination. It could never work._

Rex’s eyes gazed deeply in to his own. Clones all had the same hazel eyes, but on Rex they always seemed so much more arresting. There was something about the strength of his gaze, the unwavering spirit behind them, that Cody found irresistible. Rex examined him with intensity, as if he could somehow dive through Cody’s eyes and pluck the answers he sought from the commander’s mind.

“Yes,” Cody breathed.

Rex’s eyebrows rose. His mouth began to curl up, a hesitant motion, and the deep lines of his face began to soften. This was uncharted territory. Cody wanted to curse himself for his honesty, wanted to curse Rex for always bringing it out of him. He could never lie to his captain – not even for his own good.

“Don’t get too excited. What you’re talking about is still an impossibility.” He shook his head. “You’re asking too much. I can’t betray my Code. Not even for you.”

"Oh, frakk.” Rex ducked his head, covering his face with one hand. “On your eight. Don't look now.”

“Wha-”

“ _Don’t look_ ,” Rex repeated, his eyes conveying the sudden urgency of the situation. He hunched forward, making himself small.

Cody picked up his water glass, tilting his head back to take a deep sip. As he did he let his eyes flick to the left. 

A golden protocol droid was standing at the door. It had flagged down their waiter and was asking, in very precisely spoken Ryl, whether he had seen a blond clone captain in the area.

Both clones ducked their heads as the waiter pointed in their direction.

“Kriff,” Rex muttered. “What’s the tin can doing here?”

“You know that droid?” The droid was gazing around, clearly not having noticed them yet. But it was taking its small, mincing steps ever closer. Cody was lucky that his armor was hidden by the bulk of the captain’s body, but only for a few more seconds. Even a protocol droid couldn’t fail to find the only armored clone trooper in a restaurant full of Twi’leks.

“It’s Skywalker’s. Threepio. If he sees us here, he’ll report it back to the General, and I don’t know about you but I certainly don’t want to be explaining that one.”

Better and better. Cody rarely interacted with General Skywalker, but he didn’t take him to be the kind of man who would shrug off officer fraternization.

“Okay, plan.” Rex bent forward, propping up the menu to hide their faces. “We’ve only got a few seconds. You distract the droid, and I’ll sneak off around the back. Then when I get outside I’ll page him, asking him to come back to headquarters right away.”

“That’s not bad,” Cody said, “but we could just do this.”

He stuck his leg out into the aisle, right in front of a passing waiter. With his arms full of hot plates, the poor waiter never had a chance; he gave an aggrieved cry as his burden went flying from his arms.

And landed in the face of one very surprised protocol droid.

“Oh! Oh, dear!” Threepio backed up, its mechanical arms flailing, unable to reach its now piping-hot face. Sauce dribbled over its optical lenses.

Cody grabbed Rex by the collar, yanking him down behind the table. “Go!” He pushed him in the direction of the door.

Rex needed no second urging **.**  Ducking to keep out of sight, they sprinted past the tables of confused diners, past the waiters rushing to help clean up the horrendous mess, and through the doors until they were spilling, laughing, out into the street.

Cody braced himself against the wall as he laughed, great gasps of breath in between peals that shook his abdomen. No doubt everyone in sight would be staring at them, but this particular side-street was surprisingly empty. “That was too close.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” Rex said, leaning up next to him. A wide grin was plastered to his face. “Skywalker built that thing himself, you know. If he found out you got soup in its circuits…” he petered off, chuckling. “Never liked that droid much, anyway. Fussy li’l clanker.”

Cody let his head fall backwards. Above them the sky had darkened into a veil of starlight. He felt like a cadet again, sneaking into the Holonet room after-hours to look up inappropriate images. He felt alive. “Remind me that the next time we go on a date,  _I’m_  picking the place.”

He wasn’t looking, so he missed the way Rex’s whole frame perked up at that.

It was with a stupid grin still plastered on his face that Cody turned around toward Rex again. “You’ll need a cover story if that droid comes looking for you. I’d recommend you double back and meet up with your troops at the bar. I’ll head back to base-”

And then Rex was pressing him against the wall.

The sensation was remarkably familiar, all things considered. A wry part of Cody’s mind wondered,  _how many other commanders have to deal with romantic overtures from their subordinates?_

Rex was very, very close.  Cody knew he should be pushing him away, but endorphins were still running through his veins and all he could think was how very, very fond of Rex he was. How nice it felt to have him pressed close, hands braced on his hips.

Cody’s eyes flickered down to Rex’s lips.

“What are you doing?” The words came out softer than intended.

“Taking a calculated risk.” Rex’s hand came up, and knuckles brushed against the hair at his temple.

Cody tried to take a breath. It seemed to elude him. “You know, this is sexual harassment of a superior.”

Rex’s thumb rested against his jugular. The corner of his mouth (which Cody had tasted and now knew tasted of shuura fruit) curled upwards, deepening into a smirking dimple. “You know, sir, I’m willing to gamble that’s not true.”

His mouth was dry. He had to lick his lips to wet them and wow, that sure seemed inappropriate considering the situation.

He had to stop thinking so hard.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” Rex’s mouth curled up as he gave a little, breathy laugh. “But you’d better say something now, because even I don’t have  _that_  much self control.” 

_Push him away. Stop him._

Cody closed his eyes as a mouth gently, softly descended on his.

A moment the captain lingered, gentle and restrained. Just a fleeting moment of contact, of lips pressed chastely against his own. But then all to soon it was over, and Rex was once more withdrawing.

Cody breathed out. The world took a second to refocus.

Rex smiled at him. From this close it was impossible to hide his reaction, the way his pulse was reacting, the way his breath had hitched. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Cody rolled his eyes. “Goodnight, Rex.”

 

\------

 

Cody waved the door shut behind him. The room was in darkness; he left it that way. Well and truly alone with his thoughts. He brushed his thumb along his lower lip. Even such a simple touch felt electrified to his now too-sensitive skin.

A kiss.

That was all it was. Just a kiss.

(A damn good kiss, his treacherous mind pointed out.)

He felt good. In a way that only Rex could make him feel, these days. Warmed to his core.

_It doesn’t mean anything._

That warmth that settled inside his ribcage whenever Rex smiled. How it seemed to dim whenever that smile turned away from him.

_He’s your friend. Of course you like spending time together. That’s all._

But still…

It had been a  _very_ nice kiss.

He turned to the mirror, and discovered he was smiling.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to season 2! This chapter occurs before episode 2:18.

Cody settled the headphones on his ears, and through them came a static hiss and pop. After a moment the static cleared into the familiar chatter of the control tower.

He curled his hands around the throttle sticks, and as he did a matching smile curled across his face. There were pilots for this kind of thing; no reason for a commander to personally fly one of the transport ships, but he had swung a few favors to get Rex and himself this chance. He knew how much Rex loved flying these hulking monstrosities. After all, fly it low enough and its repulsorlifts could knock over a tree.

He thought about the captain’s face, the way it lit up when he messaged him to let him know. This was their first chance to be alone together since that dinner a few rotations ago. Sure, it wasn’t much - only a half-hour cruise skyward - but he was looking forward to it regardless. Rex had that effect on him.

Rex had a lot of effects on him, these days.

Through the windshield he could see the remains of what, up until this morning, had been their base of operations for Ry’loth. Now it was only a barren field covered with transports, and between them clones scrambling to get the ships loaded and airborne. Truthfully, they were behind schedule. Normally an undertaking like this was nowhere near as chaotic, but with the Jedi already gone the men had perhaps slacked off a bit too much. Usually Cody would be out there, providing oversight and picking up slack. But today he didn't care. Today he had a moment to himself, and he was taking it.

The cockpit door opened, and Cody flipped a switch, starting the ignition sequence. "About time, Rex,” he chastised. “I was beginning to think-"

The sentence halted abruptly on his tongue. That wasn’t Rex.

Commander Ponds sat down in the copilot seat with a bashful expression. “Sorry, sir, I thought you heard. Captain Rex got held up, so he’s heading out on a later chalk. And I know you need a copilot, so...." He picked up the second headset and paused, perhaps noticing a subtle shift in Cody's expression. "That’s not a problem, is it?"

"Of course not," Cody quickly said, corralling his expression. He buried his disappointment deep, instead focusing on completing the startup sequence.

He did like Commander Ponds. But it wasn’t Rex.

Around them the cabin filled with the faint whine of repulsorlifts powering up. He flipped on his mic. "Radio, this is Alpha-Two requesting permission to takeoff.” Then, to Ponds: “What's the fuel gauge at?"

"Two-thirds. Should be plenty." Commander Ponds stashed his helmet under his seat. “So. First stop the Fleet, and then straight on to Malastare. Am I right?”

“That’s right.”

Ponds gave a cheerfully disappointed shrug. “No chance for a drink in that plan, I suppose.”

Cody felt a stab of guilt. He had promised Ponds a drink. But the whole... thing... with Rex had taken over his week. Had he let his responsibilities get away from him? His other subordinates deserved his attention just as much as Rex.

On the display panel the last light switched from red to green. Cody heard a ‘ _cleared for takeoff_ ’ over the radio.

“Hold tight,” he told Ponds, and pulled back on the sticks.

His stomach lurched as the transport rose straight upwards, gathering speed. Through the windshield he could see the ground disappear, sucked down to be replaced by an endless blue sky. In seconds they had cleared the tops of trees; another moment later and the tip of Lessu’s mountaintop disappeared below them.

Then a touch of thruster and they were off, rocketing into the stratosphere.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and found he meant it. “Next time we’re on Coruscant, I promise. I’ll buy you a whole damn bottle.”

Ponds laughed aloud at that one. “Well now, I’ll certainly take you up on that one. But don’t worry too much about it for now. With you running the entire Malastare offensive, I don’t want to distract you.” The red-armored clone flipped a few switches, his eyes grazing over the display panel before pausing, full of curiosity, on Cody. “You know, I’ve never heard of a clone being given command over an entire theatre of operations before. It’s a big responsibility. Feel up for the challenge?”

Cody let out a silent sigh. He was trying not to focus on that. Normally the Jedi would be running the show, but not a day prior all of their generals had suddenly been called back to Coruscant for an undisclosed emergency. Kenobi had apologized over comlink, before assuring Cody that he was “more than confident in your ability to run this offensive in our absence”.

Of course Cody could handle it - he was a marshal commander for a reason, after all - but Jedi had a gift for seeing strategies that clones could never match. Having Windu or Kenobi at his side, his troops would have the best possible chance of winning. Of survival. Obi-Wan was giving him too much credit to think he could ever recreate that.

The plane leveled out. Already the sky around them was darkening, the atmosphere thinning out into the depths of near space. Beyond, in the great darkness above, he could see the orbiting fleet of starcruisers: only specks now, but growing larger.

Cody engaged the autopilot; from here on it was a straight course.

“Cody?” Ponds prompted.

“Of course,” he said, rolling smoothly over the pause. “It’s what we’re trained for. What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

Cody gestured outwards, encompassing the deepening sky around them, the orbiting fleet, the other transport ships flying in formation around them. “Your team’s going to be playing a heavy part in the Malastare offensive. It could get messy. Do you feel ready for this?”

“It’s what we’re trained for,” he replied, deftly flipping Cody’s brush-off on him.

Cody winced. Point taken.

"In truth,” Ponds continued after a moment, “I am a little concerned. Losses have been high lately and it’s taken a toll on the men’s morale. Lightning Squadron took a big hit on Christophsis, and then we lost a lot of good men on Ry'loth. Then to top it off I had to send a pair of my best men back to Kamino for reprogramming."

"Reprogramming?" That was a pretty serious offense. To many clones it was a fate worse than death.

"They got caught sharing a bunk, if you catch my meaning." Ponds shook his head. "Completely sickening. I can't believe it was happening in my team."

Thank the Force the ship was on autopilot. If Cody had been piloting, he would have sent them lurching sideways.

"Hard to believe," he echoed.

Ponds shifted, leaning forward. His hands tapped a staccato beat against the armrests of his chair. "It just makes me uncomfortable. I mean, they’re my brothers too, you know? We all share the same face. And there’s just something not right about knowing your brothers are doing… that kind of thing together.”

Cody kept his eyes on the display, not trusting himself to meet Ponds’ gaze. Had he gone stiff? Would Ponds notice, and if he did, would it be seen as guilt?

But Ponds wasn’t done. He had built up momentum, like this had been bothering him for a while and he was only now venting it. “You have to wonder what was going through their heads. Tenner was always an odd one - we all figured something had gone wrong in his growth cycle - but nobody expected Curveball to be in on it too. He's... he was one of Lightning's best. Solid guy, a good friend. I guess he was just better at hiding his malfunction."

Cody usually appreciated his officers sharing their feelings with him, but the irony here was hitting a little too close to home. "I wouldn't take it too personally,” he said wryly. “We're all different."

"Not  _that_  different, though." Ponds was eyeing him. "It doesn't disgust you?"

He keyed in an adjustment to their trajectory, taking the moment to choose his careful response. “The only thing that disgusts me,” he said slowly, “is these Separatists. After seeing what General Grievous and Count Dooku can do to a battalion, nothing else seems like a big deal.”

Ponds stared at him for a long moment, enough that Cody began to feel sweat building below the collar of his neck. Around them the plane shuddered as it finally escaped the planet’s gravity, and repulsors were replaced by the thrusters that were necessary in the vacuum of space.

“You always were able to keep a level head,” Ponds said. “You’re right. I should be focused on the big picture.”

Cody’s attempt at a short smile failed utterly to convince. “Exactly. Right now we need to focus on this offensive.”

“Right.”

Awkward silence descended between them, remarkably similar to the awkwardness that had been between Rex and himself for so long. They flew on in silence, neither looking at each other.

Ponds looked uncomfortable, like he had something on his mind. He shook his head, letting out a heavy breath.

Then all at once he reached forward and flipped off the radio mic. Leaving the two clones completely alone together in the cockpit.

Cody had a bad feeling about this.

"Look, Cody," Ponds began, and his fingers drummed on his armrests. It was a nervous tic of his. "You’re… close with Captain Rex, right?”

“Of course,” he said, not liking where this was going. “He’s a damn good officer. Do you have a problem with that?”

Ponds whetted his lips. He was definitely uncomfortable, now.  "I don't want to overstep my bounds here. It’s just… I think you should be careful around him. You've been friends for a long time. I get it. But some of us are worried that you might be straying into favoritism."

“Favoritism,” he repeated tonelessly.

Ponds scrutinized him. Nothing ever got past Ponds’ keen eyes; it was why he had been picked to lead reconnaissance. “I just want to make sure your thinking isn't compromised when it comes to the captain, that's all. You're a damn good officer and the army can't afford to lose you."

“I’m not compromised,” he said. He squeezed his hands tighter around the throttle sticks. “And I’m done playing your spy games. Save it for the Separatists.”

Well  _that_  sure shut Ponds up quickly.

Again, that awkward silence; only this time it was a hundredfold worse. All the way back Cody felt his neck itch, as if eyes were burning into his skin.

 

\------

 

"A whole month of this," Echo complained, rubbing his shoulder. "We have been on this blasted rock for an entire kriffing month."

"Thought you'd be used to it after Rishi," Fives said, not moving from where he had thrown a pillow over his head. His leg dangled over the end of his bunk, swinging like a pendulum and each time coming close to knocking his brother in the face. His back hurt. His feet hurt. A trooper never complained openly of weakness, but kriff it all, they hadn’t had an evening off since they got here, and even clones ran out of steam eventually.

Most of the boys from Torrent Company were here, lying around the barracks in various states of inactivity. This was their hour of personal time - usually reserved for sneaking treats from the dining hall or starting up impromptu games of sabacc - but nobody was in the mood right now. A thick cloud of dejection permeated the air.

"At least it's not freezing," offered Jesse, but he didn’t sound like his heart was in it. “Could be on Hoth right now.”

Beneath his pillow, Fives frowned. No, it wasn’t cold. It also wasn’t hot, or anything at all for that matter. Malastare – at least the part they were on – was dark and featureless. He knew that somewhere on the planet were the forests that the Dugs called home, but so far all he’d seen, day in and day out, were barren, scrubless plains of choking, ashy earth. He couldn’t see why they were fighting so hard to defend it.  Its most prominent feature was the heavy mechanical ozone scent that clung in the air to everything. The sky felt oppressive, smothering, the clouds staunchly refusing to let anything through. Even gravity here felt like it was trying to drag him down.

Frankly, he’d rather be back on Ry'loth.

"I'm with Echo on this one. It would be one thing if we were making any progress, but we're not." Kix was at the table, cleaning his gun. He peered narrow-eyed through the barrel. "We're actually losing ground. Each time we take a target they steal back two."

The mood in the room soured even further. Clones didn't like to lose.

Just then Hardcase came in through the door, stomping his boots on the doorframe to shake loose the heavy earth that clung to them. “What’s with you all?” he asked, noting the bleak feeling hanging in the air.

“I’ll tell you what’s with us,” Echo grumbled. “We’re losing Malastare. A month of fighting and roughing it and watching our brothers get shot… for what?”

Without even bothering to take off his armor, Hardcase turned and flopped backwards onto his bunk. He landed with a _whump!_ that shook the frame and sent a cloud of dust flying in all directions. Dogma, from the top of the bunk, threw his pillow at the newcomer.

“You about knocked us both over, idiot!”

Hardcase didn’t seem to notice Dogma’s outrage, or more likely, he didn’t care. “Chin up, boys. The Jedi will think of something.” He pillowed his hands behind his head. “They always do, in the end.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the Jedi in charge, is it?” Tup asked bitterly. “They’re up to their eyeballs in treaty negotiations and Senate intrigue and… frakkin’ meditation or something. And we’re stuck with Commander Stick-Up-His-Ass.”

“Hey.” Echo rose to his elbows, fixing Tup with a scowl. “You should show the commander a little respect. He’s still our C.O.”

Tup rolled his eyes. “Sure, he’s our superior. But I’m pretty sure they only promoted him because he’s so good at kissing ass. All he ever does is stand three feet behind Kenobi and agree with whatever he’s told.  _Yes sir, no sir, would you like me to clean your boots sir?_ ”

Denal chipped in, mimicking Tup’s impersonation. “ _Send Torrent Company onto the front line with no backup? Sounds like an excellent plan, sir!_ ”

“He doesn’t sound like that,” Echo protested.

Tup scoffed. “Who decided to make him a marshal commander anyway? Any of us fights just as well as him. Better even, since we’re actually here fighting, while Commander Cody sits cozy on the Negotiator, filling out reports.”

“He’s in the southern quadrant  _right now_!” Echo still hadn’t given up; his by-the-books mentality refused to believe that a superior officer could be anything other than entirely dependable. He smacked Fives’ dangling foot, rousing his exhausted brother. “Back me up on this one, Fives. You saw Cody at Rishi. Tell them.”

Fives hesitated. He glanced around, realizing that there were at least five pairs of eyes on him.

“I only really remember Captain Rex,” he said evasively. “It was his plan that got us in the base. By pretending to be a droid, no less.”

A smattering of incredulous laughter.

“He did what?”

“Sounds like our captain, all right…”

“See what I mean? Now there’s an officer!” Tup sat up, gesturing. “They should give Captain Rex the commander’s job. I tell you, if Rex were in charge this war would be over tomorrow.”

From the back of the room, one of the hitherto silent clones shouted out, “because all the clankers would just give up and keel over from fright!”

This brought a chuckle out of the dejected troopers.

Echo saw he was outnumbered. He rolled over, curling on to his side and shutting out the conversation.

“So now that Echo’s acting like a youngling, can we all agree,” Tup said, “that Commander Cody is the worst clone officer we’ve ever seen?”

Fives, feeling emboldened, leaned over from his top bunk. "My old sergeant had a saying: starcruisers are where they stick clones who can't figure out the butt of a rifle from their own asses."

Hardcase guffawed. Finding this mental image particularly amusing, he pantomimed the notion, and the whole room burst into laughter.

“Fives!”

Captain Rex stood in the doorway.

Instantly there was silence.

It was like the room had just been doused in cold water. Troopers froze in place, staring at the captain as one by one they all came to the same realization. Each creak, each breath was audible.

They had been caught out badmouthing a superior officer. A punishable offense.

And by that officer’s best friend, no less.

Rex looked from face to face. Not a single eye was able to keep his own for more than a few seconds before dropping.

His roaming gaze finally settled on Fives. The creases around his mouth deepened into a severe frown. “Fives, you’ve seen Commander Cody in action. Are you really going to let them say that?”

Fives dropped his head. “Sir, I didn’t….”

“Have a spine, trooper.” Rex stepped forward, into the center of the barracks. Each footstep came down slow, heavy, echoing in the uncomfortably still air.

“All of you-  _all_  of you – have seen the commander in action. You’ve all had your boots pulled out of the fire by the 212th Battalion. If you’re going to sit here and gab your useless asses off, try not to malign the one brother who has done more to see you through this war alive than anyone else combined.”

Some clones just didn’t know when to keep their mouths shut. Fives, unfortunately, discovered at that moment that he was one of them. “You’ve done more, sir,” he said, swallowing against his dry throat.

Rex’s head swiveled. Those eyes came to rest on him again until he once again dropped into silence.

When he spoke again, Rex’s words were for the whole room. “It’s easy to sit here and laugh about how you could do a better job running this war. But have you actually considered just how impossible a task it is? Dogma, you can’t even run a simulation without getting half your team killed.”

Dogma winced visibly.

“I expected better of you boys. The whole galaxy treats us as cannon fodder and the brunt end of a joke. If we start turning on each other, then the whole war is lost. The commander is one of only a handful of people who are actively fighting to get us some respect. Can you imagine how exhausting that is? How lonely it is? How often he has to listen to senators or Jedi talking about our brothers like we’re just some statistics?”

With a sudden vehemence, Rex slammed his helmet on to the tabletop. The sound startled them all.

“I am  _sick_  and  _tired_  of hearing you boys badmouthing our superiors for a laugh. If you have a problem with Commander Cody, or General Skywalker, or Commander Tano, or  _anyone else_  you feel is unjustly screwing you over, you take it up with me. Understood?”

Not a word followed. The men were stunned into complete silence.

“Fives. Follow me.”

Eyes swiveled towards the brother in question. He looked around, and saw his team glancing at him with sympathy, but not one stepped up to help him. Rex turned and left, not bothering to check if his command had been obeyed.

Fives’ stomach felt tight. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he climbed down from his bunk.

Each step towards the door made the tightness in his gut worsen, churning until he was certain he was going to be sick. Rex stood outside the tent door, face completely implacable.

Here he was again. It was the endless cycle of his life: continually disappointing the captain. First on Rishi. Then in the simulation room. Now here.

It burned all the worse for how he idolized Rex. Had done so ever since the captain saved their lives on that cold moon outpost.

Outside was quiet; most clones were back in their tents, ready for CQ. Not even birdsong interrupted the still night air. Nothing but the sound of his own heart thumping in his chest.

The tent door flapped closed behind him. Hands clenched, face hot, the apology spilled out of him in a rush. “I’m sorry, Captain. It was wrong of me to say what I did. I still remember what you and the Commander did for us on Rishi. Echo and I are alive today because of you...”

Rex’s hand came down on his shoulder, startling him silent. The captain’s face split into a gentle smile. “Calm down, trooper. I know you don’t think of Cody that way.”

Fives paused, uncertain how to proceed. This wasn’t the conversation he had been expecting.

“Oh?” he finally managed.

“The men of Torrent Company have been together a long time, and their way of thinking can be indoctrinating sometimes. Just because you’re the new guy doesn’t mean you have to agree to everything they say.”

Was that what he had been doing?

“Torrent has lots of great followers. What it needs is more leaders. Someone who steps up when they see something isn’t right.” Rex raised an eyebrow at him. “Remember what I said? I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you had it in you. I still believe it. You’ve got great potential, Fives.”

A warmth ignited in Fives’ chest.

Rex turned, and the moonlight caught on the captain’s eye. “I like you, Fives. You’re one of the few who really gets it. And if I could give you just one piece of advice, it would be this: find something to fight for. Something more than just orders drilled into your head. You’re going to see a lot of things that test your faith, and you need to have that bedrock to cling to.”

“Sir?” the clone asked, politely mystified.

Rex shook his head and laughed, half at himself. “Nevermind. I’m just an old clone. Get some rest, Fives. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you and the brothers need it. We’re heading to the eastern front tomorrow.”

The eastern front? It had been one of the few pieces of ground the army had managed to hold on to. If the 501st was being sent to support them, that was a bad sign indeed.

He took a moment to look at Rex, really look at him. Whenever he thought of Rex, he pictured a figure carved from rock. The perfect soldier. But here, standing close to him under the pale Malastare moonlight, he could see that Rex was still only a man. Dark stubble dusted his chin, thicker in a patch underneath his jaw where he had missed shaving. He stood favoring his weight on one leg, and Fives could tell it was because his feet were tired - the same as Fives’.

Somehow this - his humanity, his fallibility - made Captain Rex all the more impressive.

Rex gave his a short grin, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Getting an eyeful, trooper?” he teased.

“Captain,” Fives said, and Rex paused. The trooper took a breath. “The men are with you, sir. We’d follow you into a Sarlaac pit if that’s what it took.”

Rex laughed. “The only place you have to follow me is onto the eastern front tomorrow. Go rest up, Fives.”

Fives saluted him before returning to the barracks.

Rex watched Fives leave, his head cocked in contemplation. Alone one more in the evening air.

Cody had been right: when he recruited Fives and Echo for the 501st, it had been out of pity. What he hadn’t expected was to be genuinely impressed by them. They had learned quickly. No longer the wide-eyed newcomers, they held their own. Hell, Torrent Company could learn a few things from the Domino Squad survivors.

He heard the sound of voices starting back up inside. He hated chastising his men, but they would get over it soon enough. He just hoped the lesson would stick this time.

After the talk with Fives - after seeing the look on Fives’ face, the determination in his eyes - he was confident it would.

“Discipline problems, Rex?”

Rex’s breath caught in his throat. Not as alone as he thought.

From the shadows a clone unfolded, stepping forward into the light. Moonlight fell on ARC trooper armor, painted red. Rex felt his hackles rise.

“Commander Ponds,” he said. “Good evening.”

The commander acknowledged the greeting with an incline of his head. “You know,” he said, his words light, “if you let your men play so loose with the rules, someday you may give them an order only to find they choose to ignore it.”

Rex stayed still, but his eyes followed Ponds as the other man came to a rest only a few feet away, hands resting on his hips. The man’s posture was far too casual. Ponds never relaxed.

“What are you doing here, sir?” The 91st’s barracks were on the other side of the base. No reason for Ponds to be out here this late at night.

Ponds shrugged a shoulder. “Just felt like going for a walk. I love these Malastare nights. Good for clearing your mind, don’t you think?”

What was going on? Even on the best of days Ponds and he weren’t friendly enough to chitchat about the weather. Besides, nobody could like Malastare nights. It smelled like a locker room out here.

Interrogation tactics, Rex realized with a jolt. Putting the subject at false ease to coax information.

Ponds was interrogating him.

Rex narrowed his eyes. “What are you actually here for, sir?”

It seemed Rex had hit the target spot-on. With his lie called out, Ponds gave up the ruse. His affected camaraderie slipped away. His posture straightened, smile dropping from his face.

This was the Ponds he knew.

Ponds took a step closer, stepping neatly into Rex’s personal space. The evening light cast his face into inscrutable shadow. “You seem to care quite a bit for the wellbeing of your men, captain.”

Alarm bells started ringing in Rex’s head. “Of course,” he said, keeping his ground. “My men are everything to me.”

“They’re good men,” Ponds agreed. “Their commander, however… well, let’s just say that an officer is always on display. And if you treat the rules as mere suggestions that can be thrown away… what kind of example does that set?”

Rex felt his pulse begin to quicken, sensing danger approaching. Only sheer discipline kept him under control. “Do you have an actual accusation somewhere in there, commander?”

Ponds raised a hand between them. “You seem to be mistaken. This isn’t an accusation, Rex. This is a warning. Commander Cody seems to like you for some unknown reason, so out of respect to him I’m telling you this now.”

Another step forward. Ponds was close enough that when he whispered, the words carried straight into Rex’s ear. To anyone else it would be perfectly inaudible. “I’m watching you. You have secrets, and that’s dangerous. After Sergeant Slick, I don’t think you need that reminder.”

That was a low blow. Sergeant Slick had been a good friend. That Rex had missed the signs Slick was a spy was the blackest mark on his career.

“So this is my warning: I know what you’re doing. And if you don’t stop, then I will be forced to blow it wide open.”

Rex licked his lips. “And what is it you think I’m doing?”

He was baiting him, trying to draw him out. Like a game of Sabacc - what exactly did Ponds think he was up to? Was this just regular old paranoia, or did he actually know…?

Ponds appeared to consider for a second. Then, with face still hidden in shadow, he suddenly spoke.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You and a certain commander are  _awfully_  close.”

His heart stuttered to a halt right then and there.

This couldn’t be happening. Rex’s heart was a hammer, beating against the anvil of his ribcage. Each beat rang in his ears:  _He knew. He knew. He knew._

Ponds’ eyes were hawkish, trained on him with a lurking hint of suspicion. A small smile curled across his face.

“You know the best part of working in Recon?” he asked. “You learn how to read a person’s reactions. The tiniest tic, the smallest glance… no matter how well you lie, something always gives you away.”

Rex’s short fuse ignited. Outranked or not, he wouldn’t be spoken to that way. He planted a hand on Ponds’ chest and pushed.

“You’re grasping, Ponds. I have nothing to hide.”

Even as he said it he knew it was a lie.

Ponds chuckled, and the sound was the absolute opposite of amused. “Your dilated pupils say otherwise.”

“We’re done here,” Rex said, forcing himself to keep in control. He didn’t need to give Ponds any more fuel to throw at him. “I have more important things to deal with than your paranoia. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

And then he walked away, before he could think about the mess his big mouth had just gotten himself in to.

He wished Cody were here. He needed to speak to him. But Cody was in the southern quadrant, and tomorrow he was heading to the east front.

He didn’t need this now. He needed to concentrate.  First he had to get his men off the blighted rock that was Malastare.

And then he could deal with this new nightmare.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is certain.

Dawn arrived far too soon, bringing with it two things: rain, and an endless supply of battle droids.

The ridge stretched along a quarter-mile, and it was here that the clones had dug in. Six hours the 501st had been trapped there, trading potshots with the enemy that even now appeared in their sights across the blighted plains of Malastare. Six hours of laying prone in the mud, swapping out heatpacks until their fingertips were red and chafing.

Rex felt exhaustion settle heavily in his limbs, and even heavier in his mind. To add to it the steady drizzle made the footing treacherous and their visors half-fogged. Gunners lay prone atop the ridge, their elbows sliding in the mud as they fired again, and again, and again….

He heard a click as Hardcase’s gun jammed. Hardcase ducked behind the ridge, smacking the side of the blaster. “Piece of junk,” he grumbled.

“What else is new?” said Dogma.

Rex squinted. Through the mist and rain he could now make out the individual shapes of each battle droid, could see them bobbing in rank as they advanced over the fallen bodies of their brethren. Rex knew in the pit of his stomach that inch by inch, they were inexorably, unstoppably losing ground.

In a half delirium Rex wondered what the hell the Separatists were so hell-bent on attaining, that they would throw an entire legion at this one ridge.

From the base of the hill, Kix waved at him. The medic had a dozen clones all lying out in front of them, triaging wounds before they were thrown onto the back of speeder bikes and rushed to base.

Kix’s armor was more brown than white now, mud and gore spattering his armor. He leaned in to be heard over the noise of the battle. “That’s the twenty-third clone we’ve lost so far. Any more and we won’t have the numbers to hold this ridge.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Rex knelt over Kix’s patient. He clasped the injured brother’s hand, holding tight as the clone white-knuckled through the pain. “We have to hold this ridge.”

“The men are getting exhausted. Look!” He pointed towards the top of the ridge where Echo, ducking to avoid gunfire, lost his footing and slid backwards down the slope. He only barely managed to keep his gun’s barrel out of the mud.

“Just hold on,” said Rex. “Torrent Company doesn’t run.”

Kix jammed a suppressor in his patient’s neck. The clone’s muscles loosened; finally he fell into blissful unconsciousness. “I’m telling you-” and here Kix pointed at his patients, “if we don’t get out of here, there won’t be a Torrent Company left!”

He looked over the hill. Dammit, Kix was right. If they lost this hill they would be mowed down to a man.

They needed backup, and fast.

He hated asking for help, knowing how thin the clone army was stretched; any fire routed to their battle would be taken away from a unit elsewhere. But he had no choice.

Rex smacked a button on his wrist-com. “Victor-Five-Nine, this is Torrent Company requesting immediate backup, over.”

A hiss of static, and then an articulated clone’s voice filtered through. “Torrent Company, this is Lightning Squadron. We read you. What’s your 10-20?”

He relayed their coordinates as quickly as possible, and heard a series of electronic beeps in the background. “We’re taking heavy fire from four- no, five clanker divisions. We need suppressive fire.”

“Roger, Torrent Company. Wilco.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, taking a second to close his eyes. It wasn’t much to hope for, but it was all he had. The only damn hope they had.

 

\------

 

Cody looked down at the datapad in front of him. “You want me to sign off on this?” His voice sounded distant to his own ears.

“As the acting clone commander, your signature is needed on any major reassignment orders,” Kenobi pointed out – quite unnecessarily. Cody knew his job; he had been doing it for the better part of two years now. It wasn’t the signature that was the problem.  It was what he was supposed to be signing off on.

 They were going to drop a bomb on his troops. An untested weapon of mass destruction.

“The scientists assure us it’s perfectly safe for organics,” General Windu explained. The Master Jedi stood with his hands on his hip, fingertips brushing the hilt of his lightsaber. Even though General Windu was a stoic, rational man, something about Windu always made Cody feel like he was a moment away from violence. “Your men will be fine.”

Cody’s hands did not shake, but deep inside his throat tightened. His breath trembled with suppressed anger.

 They weren’t just going to test out this new high-yield EMP bomb they had developed, oh no. They were going to use the clones as a lure, a tasty morsel hidden at the bottom of a trap.

 The sheer arrogance was breathtaking. To take the finest warriors in the galaxy, and treat them as little more than meat shields – it was criminal. His men deserved more than this.

And they expected him to simply sign it?

He handed the datapad back to General Windu. “Sir,” he said, keeping his voice carefully modulated to hide the anger coursing through him, “I can’t authorize this.”

Both Jedi now swiveled to look at him, wearing matching looks of surprise. Windu narrowed his eyes at Cody, as if he had never seen a clone before and wasn’t sure what he was looking at. (It was a look Cody was getting concerningly familiar with.)

“We can always find a new commander if you’re unwilling,” said Windu. “I know Ponds has been looking for a promotion.”

 Obi-Wan placed a hand on Master Windu’s shoulder, giving his friend a wan smile. “Mace, please, there’s no need for that. Let me speak with Cody alone. It’s a very big decision we’re making, and I’m sure our good commander just needs a moment to think it through.”

 Master Windu crossed his arms, adopting the stony posture that meant he would await their return. His eyes, however, stayed trained on Cody. Watching him.

 Obi-Wan gently guided Cody a few steps away. “Cody,” he said quietly, patiently, “what’s wrong? You’ve never doubted my strategies before. I need you on my side right now, more than ever.”

 “My men put up with a lot in this war,” he responded, and it was a struggle to keep his voice low. “They’ve done everything you’ve asked. But situating them in the blast zone of an untested, high-yield explosive? You’re asking too much, sir.”

 “I promise, the bomb only affects electronic systems. The Republic's top minds designed it, and I had Anakin go over all the tests personally.” He set a sympathetic hand on Cody’s shoulder. “You know I wouldn’t have agreed if there was even a hint of danger.”

 It wasn’t that Cody doubted the work of the scientists. Indeed, the bomb would likely work exactly as planned. But it was the fact that it was still untested, and the Jedi were  _still_  willing to risk his men – it was an insult.

  _You’re expendable._

 If his men were real galactic citizens, rather than just clone troopers, would the generals be quite so eager to test out this weapon on them?

 But Obi-Wan Kenobi would never understand that.

 Sensing a losing battle, Cody nevertheless still put up resistance. “We deserved a little forewarning, at least.”

 Kenobi frowned. “You’re right, Cody. The Council has been completely overwhelmed lately, and in our haste we’ve overlooked things that never should have been. You deserved to know this was what we were planning.” Obi-Wan’s placed a hand on his shoulder. “I wish there were another way, but unfortunately this is it. I hope you can forgive me.”

The apology was a thin balm for the situation, not unlike a bacta strip attempting to fix a severed carotid. Cody wasn’t impressed.

 “It’s either this,” Kenobi put in, his voice modulated to appeal to Cody’s sense of reason, “or we lose Malastare, and with it, the war.”

Cody sighed, long and deeply. Yes, he knew. All too well he knew.

 Mace Windu watched them both as they returned. “Well?” the Jedi prompted.

 Cody’s hand was heavy as he reached out and took hold of the stylus.

 

\------

 

“Incoming!”

The grenade screamed through the air. Rex grabbed Hardcase and hauled him away just in time as the grenade exploded, churning up a spray of thick, viscous earth.

One of the other troopers wasn’t so lucky.

The clankers were nearly on top of them, now. Clones were down to their pistols and sidearms, braced on their knees as they picked at the enemies that were no more than fifteen yards away and closing.

He took his eyes off the battle for a single, dangerous second to scour the skyline. Damn, nothing. He punched in his comlink again. “Lightning Squadron, what is your ETA?”

No response.

“Lightning Squad, do you read me?”

On the other side, only silence.

“Captain!” Kix was down to his last nerve. “Make the call!”

He took a step back, firing again as a commando droid leapt at his face. Five quick shots and the commando collapsed, its body sliding back down the rise.

“Backup will be here any second!” he shouted back.

Kix let out a blistering curse. “They’d have been here by now if they were coming!”

Rex looked along the ridge and felt doubt tear its claws into him. The line was breaking. Everywhere he looked laserfire came thick over the ridge. Damn those clankers, they’d been holding out – keeping their best units in reserve until this moment.

“Captain!” Kix was holding his hands over a clone’s gushing wound, trying and failing to keep the vital red blood from leaking out in pumps between his fingers. “Please!”

Twin duties ripped him in separate directions.

Hold the ridge.

Protect his men.

"Look!" Just then a trooper on the ridge flung his arm out, hand extended towards the gray sky beyond. "It's Lightning Squad!"

A pair of bomber planes, their wings tipped in red, screamed low and fast through the atmosphere.

Relief made Rex’s limbs go weak. Lightning had finally come through for them.

This was his chance. A good spray of cover fire on top the ridge and they would be able to press the advantage. They could do this. They could actually  _win._

He dug in and made his way towards the top of the hill, where blaster-fire painted the gray, drizzling sky in a lights display of red and green. “Hold the line!”

The roar of their engines grew loud. They were coming in fast and hot; Rex raised his arm to signal the location of friendlies -

He watched as the planes flew straight past, on their way to another target.

A hopeless feeling tightened in Rex’s throat. He couldn’t tear his eyes off the bombers, now just specks disappearing into the steely gray horizon. Taking their last good chance with them.

Complete disbelief.

It wasn’t possible.

A blaster hit the dirt by his feet, sending up a cloud of debris that spattered against his armor. He heard a scream; another clone went down. Droids began to appear over the lip of the ridge.

He swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. His men were looking at him, helmets turned towards him. Looking for an answer. An answer he didn’t have.

“Retreat,” he shouted, then louder: “Retreat!”

 

\------

 

They barely made it back to base, heckled at every turn by the droids that picked off their flanks. Rex himself took a blaster shot to the thigh, and though his kama turned the shot away he was left with a gaping hole in the leather.

It was a wearied and defeated Torrent Company that straggled through the security gate back into friendly territory. Most of the men turned towards the barracks, heading in silence for a hot shower and a meal.

“Hey, captain.” Kix wiped his hands on his armor, succeeding only in smearing the mess further. It was the first thing that anyone had said since leaving the ridge. “Don’t blame yourself. You did all you could.”

“I know, Kix.” Rex kept walking. He didn’t bother looking back at his medic. “Because I know exactly who the blame belongs to.”

Fives stopped, watching the captain walk away from the group. “Where are you going, sir?”

Rex’s voice was dark and ominous. “To go have a little chat.”

He found Ponds with a group of Lightning Squadron’s pilots, sitting under a pop-up tent and eating lunch. The men were joking around; Ponds didn’t join in, but he nevertheless looked calm and relaxed, watching the rain.

He didn’t see how Ponds could sit there so peacefully.The sound of laserfire still rang in Rex’s ears. Dirt and blood ran in rivulets down his armor.

He could still see Kix, gore smeared up to his elbows, overwhelmed by the sheer number of wounded and dying.

He could still taste the word ‘ _retreat’_  like bitter ash on his tongue.

His helmet unsealed with a wet sucking noise, squelching when he threw it to the ground. Raindrops struck cold against his face.

He approached Ponds, who looked up. The whole group of pilots, sensing the tension in the air, went silent.

“Commander,” he said, “may I have a word?”

Ponds took in his state in a single long glance, his keen eyes no doubt picking up every subtle indication of the violence barely contained in the captain’s form. Diplomatically he lowered his voice. “Rex, you’re not in control right now. Perhaps this should wait until you’ve had a chance to settle down **-”**

He grabbed Ponds by the collar. “ _We’re discussing this_   _now._ ”

The troopers all rose, reaching for weapons, but Ponds stopped them with a wave of his hand. Rex’s fingers curled tight in the fabric of Ponds’ collar, holding him forward, off-balance. The scant few inches between their faces crackled with tension.

“Of course,” Ponds said **.** “What did you want to discuss?”

He was so close that when Rex spoke, he could feel his own breath trapped in the space between them.

“I don’t know what exactly your problem is with me.” His voice growled out of his throat, hissing between his gritted teeth. “I don’t know what malfunction you’ve got going on in that cranium of yours. But whatever it is,  _you do not put my men in danger over it._ ”

Ponds, remarkable actor that he was, adopted a look of confusion. Ponds had the same face as Cody, as Fives, as the men that had just died today – and that infuriated him.

Ponds didn’t deserve that face.

“What are you talking about?” the commander asked.

“Don’t play stupid, Ponds. You’re the head of Intel, you know everything that happens around here. Including why the 501sthad to retreat from the eastern front.”

“Retreat?” One eyebrow rose. “That’s an unfortunate surprise. I did try to warn you, though: this is what happens when you fail to set the example for your men.” He clucked his tongue. “No discipline.”

And that’s when Rex’s fist smashed into his face.

The commander went down with a grunt, toppling backwards. Rex was on him in an instant.

“You scum-sucking _bastard,_ ” he growled. He grabbed Ponds’ throat and held him down. Ponds fought, hands clawing, trying to pry him away, but Rex was unshakeable. He had tried being reasonable. It was overrated. “Men died out there! Good men! And you sit here making jokes?”

There were hands pulling on him, hauling him off, but Rex fought against them.

“You’re mad!” Ponds spat. Blood leaked from his broken nose, trickling down his chin. “What the frakk are you talking about?”

“The call for backup!” Rex shouted back into his face. “The one that  _your squadron_  took! The one that you belayed!”

Ponds finally got a hand free. He jabbed his elbow into Rex’s solar plexus, and the pain was sharp enough to drive Rex backwards.

“Undisciplined  _and_  delusional. What a winning combination you’ve got there, captain.” Ponds wiped the back of his hand across his jaw, smearing blood across his face. “How long will they let you run the 501st when this is how you solve your problems?”

Rex lunged again, breaking free of his restraints.

“Both of you,  _enough!”_

The voice echoed like thunder between them.

Commander Cody stood over them. In his hand he held a blaster, trained unflinchingly in their direction.

Both of their directions.

_Cody was pointing a gun at him._

That one incongruous fact was what finally brought Rex back to his senses. The hands that had been going for Ponds’ throat went limp and fell away. When the troopers reached for him this time, he allowed himself to be pulled away.

Behind Cody, he saw a dash of blue. Kix peered guiltily from behind Cody’s shoulder, unable to meet Rex’s eye.

There was a deadly silence between the assembled men.

Cody’s helmet swung as he examined all assembled. When he ascertained nobody was about to lunge for any throats, he clicked the safety back on his gun and holstered it once more.

“Anyone who is not involved in this matter,” Cody said into the silence, “leave. Now.”

The hands that had been restraining Rex fell away. There was a long moment where all three officers stood in place, waiting for the receding troopers to leave earshot. Doubtless the story would be all over camp within the hour.

“Now,” Cody said, “someone had better explain to me why my officers are brawling in the mud like younglings.”

Rex was the first to speak. He tried to keep his voice level, but anger colored his words. “That  _bastard_  dropped my order for suppressive fire. We lost the ridge because of him.” Even saying it brought venom rushing back into his system: the sight of his men, his 501st, straggling in defeat back to base.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ponds spat back, his voice thick with the nasal sound of a broken nose. He raised a hand to stem the blood streaming from his nose. “The captain just attacked me out of nowhere. If I were in charge he’d be in the brig this second.”

“You are  _not_  in charge,” Cody said over him. “I am. In this offensive you answer to me.”

“But-”

“Enough!” Cody roared.

Ponds’ mouth snapped shut.

Cody turned his head, catching both of them in the inscrutable gaze of his helmet. “Both of you,” he enunciated, “will retire immediately to your tents. And then I will speak with you both, starting with Commander Ponds. Understood?”

Ponds’ eyes narrowed at Cody. Blood dripped through his fingers, running in streaks down his palm. Ponds’ armor wasn’t so white any more. With mud smeared thick across his armor, even his ranks were covered; he could have been any clone.

“Yes, sir,” he said. He made a short nod before leaving. His steps were labored through the mud; Rex had the grim satisfaction of at least knowing that he had done some damage.

“Kix.” Cody turned to the clone behind him. “Follow Ponds. Make sure he gets a bacta bandage.”

Kix hurried off after him.

Leaving Rex alone with Cody.

“Cody-“ he began.

“No.”

He blinked. Cody would not look at him.

“Just go back to your tent, captain. I’ll speak to you when I speak to you, and not a second beforehand.”

 

\------

 

Rex paced in his tent, restlessly prowling. His nerves were a steady thrum in his chest, an echo of the rain that pattered against the tent’s roof. His mind raced. His stomach churned. Even now the rain continued. He could hear the sound of feet passing beyond the walls of his impromptu prison; another unit, sent to shore up the defenses that his team had just lost.

Finally the tent door opened, and in came Commander Cody. Water dripped off his armor, pooling onto the poured concrete floor. For a long moment the clone was framed against the gray sky beyond; then the flap swung closed, sealing them both in.

Rex rose to his feet at once. “Cody,” he began, “you have to believe me. Ponds deliberately sabotaged my mission-”

Cody raised a hand for silence. Rex closed his mouth.

He hadn’t seen Cody like this in ages. Always Cody was his friend, his comrade, his brother-in-arms. It had been a long time since he saw Cody, his superior.

It was more than a little intimidating.

Cody sat down on Rex’s cot. He let out a sigh, and then took off his helmet.

The man looked exhausted. Deep circles like bruises swept under his eyes, making the clone appear older than his fifteen years. He turned his helmet over and over in his hands.

“I spoke with Ponds,” he said. “There was no record of an order for suppressive fire in Lightning’s databases.”

Rex felt a bolt of electricity root him to the spot.

"That's impossible," he said faintly. "I ordered it myself. Check my wrist-com, it’s in there.”

"I don't doubt you, Rex, but I'm telling you the facts: whether you put it through or not, the ninety-first never received a transmission from your unit."

He simply couldn’t get his mind around this fact. It made no sense. He thought of the battle, of his men.

He had spoken to dispatch, he was sure of it. Received confirmation. Or had he?

Had he really made such a huge mistake?

No. This was a trick. It had to be. Ponds had set him up; the coincidence was too perfect. First he went around threatening Rex, telling him he wanted him out of command… then a situation arises that makes Rex look incompetent?

He shook his head. “Ponds could still be behind this. He could have erased the comm record. He could have intercepted it-”

“Rex!” Cody’s voice rose. “Listen to yourself. There  _is no conspiracy_. As best we can tell, a Separatist droid must have intercepted your outbound signal. They could have fabricated the conversation, the same way they did at Rishi Outpost. What happened was an unfortunate tragedy, but it’s not Ponds’ fault.”

Rex felt sick to his stomach. Through the rushing in his ears, he almost missed Cody’s next words.

“Rex,” he said, rubbing his eyes and looking very tired. “You can’t just go around picking fights. Ponds is  _not_  someone you want to get into a feud with. I can’t just take your side because of… whatever is between us.”

Rex had rarely felt so powerless.

It occurred to him just how bad this was for Cody. Doubtless the story had already spread through most of camp by now. When the men heard their officers had been fighting, would they begin to take sides? Troopers were very loyal to their band of brothers. Had he just started a small civil war, on top of the war they were already fighting?

“I’m sorry,” he said, and the words sounded ridiculously thin for the situation. His hands felt awkward and useless at his sides. “I’ve really kriffed things up for you.”

He couldn’t do anything right these days.

Cody sighed, leaning back on the bunk until his shoulders touched the wall. “Why apologize? I won’t pretend I’m not annoyed, but it’s over and done with. There’s too much at stake right now to waste time on distractions.”

Cody’s body was taut with unreleased tension. Something very big was bothering the commander. This wasn’t about any fight Rex had gotten in, he realized.

“Hey.” Rex sat down next to him on the cot. “What’s going on?”

“What isn’t?” He laughed thinly. “We’re losing this offensive, Rex. Everywhere on this planet, the Separatists are winning. They took over one of our main power distributors this morning. I’m back here because we had to pull out of that sector or risk total annihilation.”

Rex placed a hand on Cody’s neck, sliding his fingers beneath the armor plating to rest, cool and comforting, against Cody’s skin. He could feel scar tissue raised beneath his fingertips. Gently, he began to knead the skin.

Cody leaned in to the touch. His eyes slid closed.

There weren’t any words spoken between them.

It reminded him of a time, not too long ago but far enough it seemed like ages, where he and Cody had sat just like this in silence, next to each other. Taking strength simply from the company.

Of course, back then he hadn’t known just how broken Cody really was.

And yet now, for all that he had learned – for all that had passed between them – here he was again. Still exactly as helpless to help the one person that he truly wanted to.

“I’m sorry about what happened to Torrent Company,” Cody finally said. “Did you lose any?”

“Twelve KIA. Another twenty are pretty banged up. Three of them – Vic, Kodak, and Bomber – probably won’t pull through.”

“Vic was one of the two who survived Naboo, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah. Guess his luck ran out. He did take one of those spider droids out with him, though.”

Cody sighed. He looked so dejected.

“Hey.” Rex took Cody’s chin in hand, turning his head towards him. Cody let him, and the eyes that rose to meet his were dull and expressionless. “We’ll find a way through this. You’re a genius. You always do.”

Cody’s responding laugh was as bitter as kaf. “We do have a plan, Rex. You’re just not going to like it.”

Rex leaned forward, intending to punctuate his words with a sign of just how much he respected him. A reminder of better times, of those who still cared for him.

And his heart stuttered when Cody flinched away.

“I’m sorry, Rex,” Cody said, “but I can’t deal with this right now. I have a war to fight.”

Sympathy moved Rex to speak. “If you want to back out of this arrangement, sir, I’ll understand.”

He was expecting Cody to jump in at once, telling him that he wasn’t afraid. Or maybe – though he hoped he wouldn’t – to nod his head and tell him that the risks simply didn’t add up.

But Cody didn’t respond.

That, somehow, was even worse.

Cody put his helmet on, sealing away his expression. His voice came through the articulator. “I’ll see you at the end of all this, Captain.”

“You can’t just leave without answering,” Rex protested.

“Once we’ve survived this, we can talk then. I promise.”

It didn’t make him happy, but it seemed like that was the best answer he would be getting. So Rex nodded. “Right. Okay.”

“I’m sending you a new set of orders for our next battle. You’re going to want to read it over carefully before you brief your men.” Cody tapped in a few buttons on his wrist-com, and Rex’s began blinking with a received message. “If you have any questions, General Windu is running point for this one.”

“Roger.” Rex still didn’t feel right about any of this. He wanted to pull Cody away from the door, to make him take off his helmet and stay. But he had already done enough damage today, so he stayed put where he was.

He’d just have to trust Commander Cody knew what he was doing.

“And Rex?” Cody paused at the door. “Keep your head down. I’ll… see you on the other side.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during episode 2:19 (and later, during episode 2:10).

The boys in white stood at attention, waiting to load back onto the carrier. Mindful of the new passenger they now had aboard.

Namely, an eighty-ton Zillo Beast.

Cody stood in the catwalk, looking over the hangar that had been cleared to fit the monstrous creature. “Well,” he said to nobody in particular, “that’s going to be a logistical nightmare.”

“I don’t think Coruscant appreciates just how big a challenge they’re taking on. How long until that thing escapes?”

Cody bit back a sigh. Commander Ponds was not the first person he wanted to be speaking to right now. Indeed, one of the best parts of leaving Malastare was knowing he wouldn’t have to deal with the 91st for a long while.

 _Be polite, Cody,_  he reminded himself sternly. “Ponds. Can I help you with something?”

 “Actually… yes.” The commander stepped up next to him, joining Cody at the rail. His nose was covered in a bandage, and from underneath peeked out the feathery edges of a bruise. “I was hoping you could take a message to Captain Rex. An apology.”

Cody’s eyebrow rose, and he turned fully towards Ponds. Now this was unexpected. Neither Ponds nor Rex were famous for admitting the error of their ways.

“You could talk to him yourself,” Cody pointed out.

Ponds huffed out a soft breath. “And risk another broken nose?”

He had a point.

“Alright,” Cody conceded. He could entertain Ponds’ ridiculous rivalry for a moment. The commander had earned that much after his valor fighting the Zillo Beast. “What’s on your mind?”

Ponds set his fingertips to drumming on the rail – a sure sign he was uncomfortable. It was a habit the man seemed unable to break. “I know we haven’t all seen eye to eye on this offensive, and… I didn’t want to leave things the way they are. I may not agree with what Rex is doing, but it’s not my business.” He took a long breath. “The 501st performed admirably on Malastare. I was wrong to think Rex’s… personal life… would interfere with his duties as an officer.”

It wasn’t a great apology, but it was more than Cody ever thought he’d hear. Rex and Ponds’ month-long bitchfest had been the cause of more than one headache for him, and he was glad to see it finally behind them. But throughout it there remained still one last mystery. Something that Cody couldn’t leave alone.

The yellow-armored clone took a moment, letting his eyes roam across the hangar below. Behind their captive Zillo a couple tanks were being driven up the ramp, stun beams trained on the slumbering beast. Nobody was paying attention to a pair of commander clones up in the rafters.

“Ponds,” he said, “what exactly is your problem with Captain Rex?”

Ponds looked at him in surprise. “So you really don’t know?”

“Enlighten me.”

 Ponds looked around, and then let his voice drop to a quiet murmur. There wasn’t much traffic up here in the catwalks, but one could never be too careful.

“I know it’s not my place to spy on a brother, but….” The man scratched his neck, unable to look Cody in the eye. “Look, there’s no easy way to explain it, so I’m just going to say it. Rex is sleeping with his commander.”

Cody’s brain screeched to a halt.

“What?” he said, this time in genuine confusion. “What in the nine hells are you talking about?”

“Him and Commander Tano.” Ponds shook his head. “I know, it seemed impossible to me at first. But the evidence is there.”

“With… Ahsoka,” he said slowly. He felt like he had just had a heart attack. “You think he’s in a relationship with Ahsoka Tano.”

For a moment Cody paused, testing the new idea like a first sip of an unknown wine. Did it sound correct? Rex and Ahsoka _were_  close. Unusually close, even. But could there be something between them?

Then the response came back, ringing clear: no. He knew Rex. And Rex wouldn’t do that.

But just because it wasn’t true didn’t make it any less dangerous.

Cody crossed his arms. “That’s a  _very_  serious accusation you’re leveling, Ponds.”

“I know, but I have evidence. You recall their mission to Naboo? The one where they stopped the Blue Shadow Virus outbreak?”

Of course he remembered. How could Cody forget thinking Rex was dead?

“Well, I was reviewing security footage recovered from the base – standard procedure on high-threat missions like that one – and uncovered footage of them sharing an… intimate moment.”

“Oh, really?” Now  _this_  was news to Cody. He resolved to ask Rex about it later.

“Besides,” Ponds added, “I’ve been watching them both, ever since witnessing… that, and the clues are there. Rex has taken to disappearing during his free time, without telling anyone where he’s going. A sudden shift in habits, plus secrecy? All together it’s a clear indication: the man is having an affair.”

Oh, if only he knew.

“So now you understand why I was so concerned. Having a secret liaison with a superior officer, and a Jedi at that? Not only does it break just about every article of the Code, but Rex could get us all in big trouble. His men could end up being the ones that suffer.” Ponds finished and turned to Cody, and in his gaze it was clear he was looking for validation. He wanted Cody to agree with him, to tell him that this was exactly as big a problem as he thought.

Instead Cody wanted to laugh. An entire month of mutinous looks and political subterfuge, all because of a simple misunderstanding.

What a pathetic waste of time.

But even if it wasn’t true, this could mean trouble. If Ponds went public with his Ahsoka theory, the captain would face instant demotion. And if he managed to dodge that blaster-shot, a still greater one trailed in its wake. Should the truth came out - if he and Rex were discovered - then demotion would be a best-case scenario. Reprogramming was far more likely.

That wasn’t something Cody could let happen. Not to Rex.

“How many people know about this?” he said, keeping his voice low.

Ponds shook his head. “I haven’t spoken to anyone else about it.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

At that the other’s eyebrow rose. Questioning.

“This is a sensitive issue,” Cody explained. “We don’t want anything to come back and cause problems for the Jedi. Let me take care of it, alright?”

He held his breath, waiting for Ponds’ response. If Ponds forced the issue, Cody would be drawn into a corner. He was ready – he would do what he had to – but Ponds was a good man. The last thing he wanted was to sacrifice Ponds to keep Rex safe.

Then Ponds nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “Whatever you think is best, commander. It’s your decision.”

Cody breathed silent relief into his helmet. Thank the Force Ponds trusted him so much. Thank the Force he and Rex had managed to patch things up. If Ponds had pushed the issue, well… Cody didn’t want to contemplate what he would be capable of.

“I appreciate you bringing this to my attention.” Cody took a chance and rested a hand on Ponds’ shoulder. “I promise, it will go away quietly.”

“Just be careful, Cody. Don’t get too personally involved in this one.” Ponds crossed his arms, watch as down below the star cruiser’s huge bay doors began to close. Taking them home. “Trust me, when it comes to these kinds of things, it’ll drag down everyone involved. Keep your distance from Captain Rex.”

“Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

Ponds gave a short bark of laughter. “I sincerely hope you’re right.”

 

\------

 

Coruscant, the seat of civilization.

Beautiful Coruscant, with her vibrant colors and always-eager nightlife. Where a clone could find a drink and some company around any corner.

The men of the Seventh Sky Corps were back at last.

True to form, the moment the starcruiser touched down in the hangar of Coruscant’s massive, sprawling military complex, clones began to disappear. First a trickle, then in droves as they finished their duties and hitched a taxi to the nearest location of ill repute. By the time retreat sounded, the  _Resolute_  was deserted but for a token crew manning the most essential functions.

So long as they didn’t cause any public disturbances (and there were always a few), Cody was happy to let them have the night off **.** The quiet would be more than welcome.

He shrugged a gym bag higher onto his shoulder, feeling strangely weightless without his protective carapace of armor. Other clones might unwind from Malastare and Ry’loth with liquor and loud music, but Cody longed for the zen of the practice room. He wouldn’t feel like a trooper until his blaster was hot in his hands and a healthy sheen of sweat dripped down his skin. And on this, the first night back on Coruscant, he was guaranteed to have the practice room to himself.

However when he palmed open the door to the firing range, rather than empty silence what greeted him was the familiar zing of a blaster. At the far end of the range, light illuminated one of the firing lanes.

The practice room wasn’t deserted, after all.

It was the sight of blue armor that drew Cody forward. Rex stood with his back towards Cody, one arm extended rangewards; so focused was he on his work that Rex didn’t even notice he had company. His helmet lay at his feet, and instead the captain wore a pair of over-ear headphones. (They always kept a few pairs around the range, but nobody ever used them. Trooper helmets had built-in targeting assistance, and besides, when would a clone ever need to know how to fight without their helmet on?)

What surprised Cody, however, was the target.

A hundred meters downrange stood a holographic image of General Grievous. Cody felt a slick moment of dread curl in his stomach. The hologram moved slightly, its eyes blinking, its cape fluttering – a perfect likeness.

The scar over Cody’s eye twinged sharply, remembering the last time he went up against Grievous. Four lightsabers, each taken off a dead Jedi, spinning in blurring arcs. The tip of a lightsaber swinging towards his face; then a flash of light and pain and the world turning red –

_It’s just a hologram._

Cody approached with silent tread, not wanting to disturb Rex’s concentration. The captain looked to have something heavy weighing on his mind. As Cody came closer he watched Rex empty an entire power pack, one shot after another, into the holographic display. Each shot found its mark, layering over the last shot in a perfect bull’s-eye. No hesitation, no wavering. Kill shots each.

A final ‘ _click_ ’ as Rex’s power pack ran empty. He raised his blaster, flipping the safety back on.

That was when the captain finally noticed he was no longer alone. Cody knew this because he saw Rex’s shoulders suddenly stiffen, that subtle battle-hardened reaction to being taken by surprise.

Then a moment later it was passing, the tension easing into wariness.

Rex took his earphones off, letting them rest around his neck. Despite the noise of blaster fire that still echoed in the corners, the silence that now stretched rang even louder.

“You know,” Rex finally said, “I’m not sure whether to say ‘hello, Cody’ or ‘good evening, sir’.”

“Should I come back later?” Cody asked.

“Nah. I’m just finishing up.” He nodded towards the holographic General Grievous, which was now frozen in midair. “Had some thinking I needed to do.”

Cody didn’t need to ask what about. A dozen empty power packs lay on the firing lane’s barricade.

“Did it help?” he asked.

Rex flashed him a wan grin.

“Not even remotely.”

Rex moved over, giving him space to lean against the barricade, and after a moment’s pause Cody took him up on the offer. Their shoulders brushed from how narrow the lane was.

Leaning on their elbows, they both looked over the hologram: a living spectacle of a clone’s worst nightmare, frozen in space. They could fire a thousand bolts into that image and it still wouldn’t bring the war any closer to an end.

“You know,” said Rex, “if any clone ever had a reason to hate General Clanker, it’s you.”

“I don’t hate him.”

Rex raised an eyebrow.

Cody let his eyes roam across the hologram. He had never really examined Grievous in detail. He knew that beneath the metal was a being – a Khaleesh – but beyond those baleful yellow eyes it was hard to see any remnant of the organic creature that had once called itself Grievous.

 _Droids with organic parts_ , he thought grimly. Something the clones had in common with their greatest enemy.

“He’s doing the same thing as us,” Cody said. The firing lane, with its blast-proof walls, gave his voice an odd echo. “Fighting a war as best he can. Can’t hold it against him that he’s good at it.”

Rex turned and took a long look at him. Cody knew what he was thinking about.

Two clone officers, young and stupid, believing the coming day’s battle would be another easy victory to pin on their lapels. Never imagining the danger that lay waiting for them, lurking in the smoke and darkness.

A few shots of alcohol and a cheery bidding, an inside joke between friends:  _see you on the other side._

And then the part Rex did not see, could not have seen except through holovids. A team of yellow-armored clones pouring into a smoke-filled command bridge.

Through the darkness and the smoke seeing a lightsaber light up. Then two. Then three.

Watching reality turn into a bloody, churning nightmare. Brothers chopped – hacked – sliced to pieces all around, air thick with screams and dying and the smell of sizzling flesh. The clicking noise of metal talons scraping against the floor.

Then the sleepless nights spent at a hospital bedside. A promise:  _it will be okay._

No, Cody didn’t hate General Grievous. He could no more hate him than he could hate the very concept of fear, for that was what Grievous was. A yellow-eyed monster, breathed to life from the depths of a lurking nightmare.

A hand on his elbow brought him startling back into the moment. Hazel eyes peered at him with concern.

“You did what you could,” Rex said quietly, reading his mind. “Nobody could have seen that coming.”

“It was my job to secure that bridge. To stop him. My entire team died while I lay unconscious on the ground.” Cody picked up one of the discarded power packs, turning it over in his hand. The scar above his eye burned as if the general’s lightsaber were still slicing a track across his face. “If I had done my job that day, how many brothers would still be alive now?”

The hand on his elbow squeezed harder, forcing him to turn.

“Hey.” Rex’s voice was hard, his gaze unrelenting. Refusing to let him look away. “Listen to me. Back on Malastare, I lost my head in a big way. Got to thinking that my losses were Ponds’ fault. But all along it was him.” He nodded towards the hologram target. “General Clanker and his tin army. Every one of the brothers we lose – it’s on him and nobody else. Do you understand? You are  _not at fault_  for his actions.”

Cody wished he could believe him.

Rex slid a new powerpack into his pistol, and then with a quick toss, flipped it over so he was holding it out towards Cody, grip-first. “I've a better idea. Why don’t you take the next round?”

Cody shook his head.

But Rex refused to relent. As always.

“Come on, commander. I know you didn’t get a chance to pick up a pistol on Malastare, except for when you were pointing one at my head.” Rex held the gun out. “It feels good to put a couple holes in the ol’ rust bucket, I promise.”

Reluctantly, Cody took the pistol – Rex’s own gun, worn and scratched with its blue-painted sides – and felt it fit warm and heavy into his hand. Its balance was perfect. He saw that Rex had filed down the tip of the gun for faster recoil. Clones weren’t supposed to customize their weapons as it made them difficult to repair, but feeling the weapon in his hand, he knew that this was the best blaster he had ever touched.

Rex  _never_  let anyone touch his twin blasters. Cody felt strangely honored.

“Hold up,” Rex said. He slid the headphones from his neck, settling them on Cody’s ears. The world went slightly muted, but he could still hear Rex perfectly well when he tapped one of the earpieces. “Safety first.”

“Mission always,” Cody responded with a wry twist of his lips. It was a cheeky callback to their days in officer school, with Alpha-17 striding up and down the firing lanes, shouting  _safety first, mission always_ behind them in time with his steps. The officers-in-training would go to bed with that rhythmic mantra running through their minds: _safety first, mission always._

Then Rex flipped a switch, and the firing lane came back online. General Grievous came back to life. 

Cody’s finger squeezed the trigger.

A bright spot appeared on the target, marking where the blaster-fire passed through. The shot entered just above where Grievous’ left eyebrow would be, if he had one.

A disappointed sigh escaped Cody's lips.

He’d take off the head of a battle droid, certainly, but it wasn’t good enough to go up against General Grievous. Or Asajj Ventress. Or Count Dooku. The enemies that he continually found himself facing off against, thanks to his overly eager Jedi general. He had to be better than this. If he ever deserved to be General Kenobi’s right hand, he had to be the best out there.

"See?" He lowered the weapon. “I think I’ll leave the marksmanship to you, captain."

“Your breathing is wrong.”

Cody’s breath hitched when a body slid up behind his. Hands came to rest underneath his forearms, steadying them.

“This isn’t a private location,” he said quietly.

“Tonight it is.” Rex’s voice was a rumble in his chest. “Your stance is good, your grip is good, your aim is dead on – but you tense every time you squeeze the trigger. It’s so subtle I doubt you even realize you’re doing it. The subtle shift in your chest moves through your shoulder-“ one hand trailed upwards, “down your arms, and to your gun.”

He knew that this close, it was impossible for Rex to miss the shiver that followed his fingers.

“You’re not listening to your weapon. All your attention is on that hologram, so you’re missing what the pistol is telling you. Try this.” Rex fitted himself behind Cody, his hands covering Cody’s hands. “Close your eyes. I’ll aim for you. Just relax and feel the shot.”

“Feel the shot? You sound like a Jedi.”

“There are worse things to sound like.” Rex chuckled. “Just trust me, won’t you?”

He did trust him.

Cody closed his eyes. Rex’s hands were steady, supporting him. Rex’s trigger finger curled up against his.

He breathed out, and felt the gun dip slightly in response to the movement.

The captain was right. When you had a target in between your sights, it could be easy to lose track of yourself. With his eyes closed he was able to focus on the feel of the gun, how each minuscule movement in his body shifted his aim.

The subtle pressure on his trigger finger increased. He followed, allowing it to press the trigger for him.

The gun gave a familiar kick and settled back in his hands.

“Did you feel that? No tension whatsoever.” Rex’s fingers slipped away. “Now try one on your own.”

He opened his eyes, locking gazes with the hologram before him.  _Feel the shot._

The next one went straight between Grievous’ eyes.

“Well done.” Rex’s breath was a warm puff of laughter against the back of his ear. “And now you know my secret. General Clanker doesn’t stand a chance.”

Then those hands trailed down his sides, coming to a rest on his hips.

The body pressed up behind him was insistent, warm and solid and unignorably  _there._ Something in that touch, in the way those hands settled on his narrow hipbones, told Cody that he was not escaping this time.

It was time to settle this.

“Cody.”

This single word – two simple syllables – was nevertheless weighted down with meaning. Rex’s voice was quiet, just hardly above a murmur, and yet Cody could feel the weight of everything that was between them wrapped up in that one word. It was a command, a plea, a wish.

“Do you want this?”

Four simple words. Four small words, with an equally simple answer: yes or no.

And yet Cody found he had no response.

He set the pistol down. 

“If not…” Rex’s breath fluttered against the tiny, short hairs on his neck. “I get it. But it’s killing me, not knowing where we stand.”

With a guilty twinge, Cody reflected on just how poorly he had treated the captain. Captain Rex, who had only ever been open and honest with him, deserved better than to be led on and strung around.

But the problem wasn’t with Rex. It wasn’t with their unequal ranks – they were both professionals, as Rex said – or even the fact that they were brothers. He had long since gotten over the idea that what they were doing was an abomination by any standard of decency.

The problem was his Code.

The Code that had served as a guide for his every waking moment. The Code that had given him his name, an unkind moniker from a fellow cadet who sneered that all he was good for was following orders. The Code that had seen him rise to the highest ranks a clone could achieve, given command over forty thousand troopers, while that same cadet who had mocked him lay in an unmarked grave on a battlefield far away.

_I swear that I will uphold and defend the laws of the Galactic Republic from all enemies, foreign and domestic, forsaking any personal attachment that may interfere with the discharge of my duties. I will obey the orders of those appointed over me, the Galactic Senate, and the Supreme Chancellor. The needs of the Republic are my needs. The safety of the Republic is my priority. I am a clone trooper of the Grand Army of the Republic._

And yet somewhere down the line – somewhere between following orders and watching his brothers fed into the great churning machines of war – the Code had begun to change.

It was, he realized, just words.

And not perfect ones at that.

Maybe he just didn’t understand it nearly as well as he had once believed. The words of the Code left him empty; unable to fill him the way they had back when he was a Shiny and the war was new, a bright chance for valor and death only a glorious impossibility.

But Captain Rex made him feel whole. He felt right.

If he couldn’t trust the Code any longer, than maybe he could trust Rex.

“Cody?” Rex’s voice was an uncertain plea, murmured into his neck. “Just talk to me, Cody. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Talking. Talking and thinking – he had done so much of that he was sick of it. He knew that yes, they probably should discuss this, because it wasn’t exactly a small leap they were making.

Frakk it.

He turned around, letting Rex’s hands trail across his hips, until he was face to face with the captain.

Then he leaned forward, closed the narrow space between them, and kissed Rex.

Twice before had the two clones kissed. The first had been desperate and needy, both of them taking what they needed with no thought for the other. The second had been hesitant, unreturned, more of an invitation than a real kiss.

Now, on their third try, Cody and Rex finally got it right.

There were no gasps of desire; nobody swooned into the others’ arms. But the two came together like pieces locking in to place, like they were always meant to fit there. Cody could feel Rex’s bottom lip caught between his teeth and the captain’s inhaled breath on his cheek. And there was the remarkable familiarity: the feeling of stubble, the taste of shuura fruit. A perfect balance of give and take.

 _Kriffing hell,_  he thought to himself.  _I should have done this sooner._

It was a long moment before they broke apart, and an even longer one before either was able to speak again.

“Well then,” Rex said, a little breathily. “Can’t say I was expecting that.”

Cody had to agree. Perhaps the good captain was rubbing off on him. Sometimes words were overrated.

 He let his eyes roam across the otherwise empty firing range. Odd sort of setting for a moment like this, he supposed, but in a way it suited him and his captain. Their relationship had always been defined by the edges of a battlefield, and wreathed in the scent of gun smoke.

Still, he supposed a few words would be appropriate, given the situation. Rex was still looking at him with a slightly worried look lingering in his eyes, as if he was afraid Cody would pull away at any moment and declare it a mistake.

“Rex,” he said, and the captain’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “In answer to your question, my answer is yes. I want this. I want _you._ ”

The uncertainty melted away from Rex’s face. The surprise, the joy, the sheer unexpected delight in his expression was a remarkable thing to behold.

“So I can…?”

Cody’s mouth quirked upwards. He didn’t flinch away when Rex’s hand came to a rest on his cheek. “I hope you’re not going to ask for permission every time. Otherwise this is going to be a very repet-”

His words were cut off when Rex enthusiastically captured his mouth.

Cody found himself taken by surprise with the force of it, but once the captain regained a bit of control he found it was actually quite enjoyable. He leaned back, resting his weight against the barricade so he could more thoroughly focus on the task at hand.

“I can’t believe it,” Rex said once they had parted for breath. He leaned his forehead against Cody’s. “You’re actually mine.”

_I’ve always been yours. It just took me a while to see it._

Of course, there was one remaining issue. “We should  _definitely_ not be doing this in public,” Cody pointed out with a little laugh.

“Agreed.” Rex cocked his head. “My room?”

Cody’s responding smile was a sly, spreading smirk.

 

\------

 

Rex lost track of things, then. He wasn’t quite sure how they made it from the practice room to his quarters, especially when he felt every nerve tingling in his body and was certain he wore the knowledge of their secret tryst like a sign on his skin.

He only knew that before the door even finished closing he was being pressed against a wall, and hands were yanking him forward to claim him. And oh, it was everything Rex had ever wanted and more.

He loved the sensation of Cody’s skin beneath his teeth. He loved his taste, salty but a bit sweet beneath. He absolutely adored the feel of Cody’s breath hitching when Rex trailed his palms down his ribcage.

It all seemed a little surreal, still too far beyond possibility to be really happening. It was this – the surreal perfection of the moment – that finally gave Rex the strength to pull away. "How far do you want to take this?"

"What?" Cody asked distractedly.

Rex placed his hands on Cody's shoulders and held him still, making him meet his gaze. It took more self-control than anything in his life ever had. But he would not ruin this. "I don't want to go further than you're comfortable with."

The commander, it seemed, was not in any mood for serious conversations. “On the bed,” he commanded.

Rex smiled. That was good enough for him. He grabbed Cody by the waist and downright  _threw_  him. The cot squeaked under his weight when he landed, and a second later Rex landed on top of him.

 Lazily, almost playfully they grappled, a pantomime of the combatives trained deep into their muscles. But this time their sparring was all roaming hands and bucking hips, gasps of breath in the heated space between their bodies.

 Rex could practically hear Alpha-17 shaking his head in despair.  _You call that a takedown move?_

 Cody, however, wasn’t playing fair. He caught Rex up in a deep kiss and, sufficiently distracted, Rex didn’t notice the leg snake through his until his gravity suddenly shifted. 

In a single moment he went from straddling the commander to being on his back.

Cody’s forearms pinned Rex’s in place. He had him in a neat little lock – the same one he had back when they had been grappling all those months ago, sparring in the negotiator’s simulation room. But what had been then purely innocent was now full of heat and fire, with Rex suddenly aware of his own body, vulnerable and open for Cody.

Cody pulled back a bit, examining the form below him. Judging from that look on his face he very much liked what he was seeing.

 “It seems I am at your mercy,” Rex said with some amusement. “Awaiting your command, sir.”

 “My command,” Cody smirked, “is this: get out of that armor, trooper.”

 Rex was all too happy to oblige.

 Caught up in a kiss, he reached between them to unzip the commander’s suit. Cody helped him in his task, shrugging out of it and letting it fall to his waist.

Rex’s hands ran down Cody’s abdomen, feeling underneath the rough, scarred skin the powerful muscles beneath. His body was disciplined and chiseled. He doubted the commander had ever missed a workout. And though his skin was discolored from the mass of pale scars running across it, in Rex’s eyes his body was entirely without flaw.

Cody’s breath hitched. “What are you doing?” he asked as Rex leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Cody’s chest.

The captain trailed kisses along his ribs, feeling them rise and fall with Cody’s breathing, rumble with the voice that purred out of Cody’s chest.

“You’re gorgeous, sir,” Rex said, smiling the words into the dip below Cody’s ribcage, and was rewarded to feel a spasm of laughter shake Cody’s ribcage. A hand came to rest on Rex’s head, trailing across his pale blond hair.

 “You,” Cody said, “are the strangest brother I’ve ever met.”

 Any further words were interrupted by the beeping of Cody’s comlink.

 Both men stopped and stared at it.

A second later Rex’s began to go off as well.

Cody leaned over and picked up his link. “Commander Cody speaking.” It was amazing; listening to him, you’d never guess that he was half-naked and straddling his subordinate’s hips.

He listened to the frantic voice on the other end with an intent frown. “Roger that, sir,” he said. “I’ll be right there.” And he shut off the link.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Rex pointed out.

“Kriffing hell,” he muttered, running his hands over his face. “The damn beast escaped. It’s wrecking downtown.”

Rex left a kiss on Cody’s collarbone before reluctantly disengaging. “Is anyone surprised?”

“No,” Cody said bitterly. “Except for the thousands of Coruscant citizens who suddenly have a giant monster rampaging on their roofs. And once again it’s up to us to stop it.”

Rex loved a good fight, and this one sounded fantastic. But kriff, did it have to be right  _now?_

He ran a hand over his face, steeling himself, before he began to pull his clothes back on. Beside him Cody was doing the same. Too bad there wasn’t time for a cold shower; as it was, he’d just have to deal with uncomfortably tight armor for the next several minutes.

“Maybe we can pick up where we left off,” Rex said hopefully.

Cody rolled his eyes. “Have to take a rain check on that, captain. I already can tell I’m going to be filling out paperwork all night long.”

Well, it had been worth a shot. Rex readied his blasters, giving them an eye-over to ensure proper functionality, then slid them into their holsters.

“Let’s go save Coruscant,” he said, already feeling the adrenaline beginning to spike through his blood.

 

\------

 

Rex never did get to cash in that rain check.

That was the thought that, ridiculously, flashed through his mind weeks later when a blaster bolt struck him straight through the chest.

He flew from his speeder, tumbling through the air until he hit the ground with a sickening  _thud._  There was no pain, just a white-hot searing light everywhere. The world seemed to be off-kilter, in slow motion.

Somewhere he heard return fire, the sound of Kix and Jesse shouting, and then feet pounding in his direction. But the sounds were muted, coming through cotton, and he couldn’t make out any words. Was his helmet’s speaker broken?

Darkness speckled in at the corners of his vision, and the last thing that filtered through was Jesse’s hands turning him, rolling him over, as he said in taut, worried tones, “Kix, call base. Captain Rex has been shot….”


	11. Chapter 11

He called himself Cut Lawquane. A farmer, a husband, a father, and a clone trooper. He was one of the brothers. A deserter.

And, as Rex discovered when the night came alive with laserfire, when a voice rose above the sound of terrified children shouting  _protect my family,_ a damn good man.

The moon over the farm’s cornfields was bright that evening, washing them in light as the two clones worked to rebuild the ramshackle building that the Lawquanes called home. The two men worked quietly, mindful of the children asleep upstairs with their mother. Rex did what he could, sorting through debris one-handed, picking up the pieces of shattered pots and righting upturned furniture.

The war had come to Saleucami, indeed. And now once again innocent lives were being torn apart for it.

“Hey, Rex. Come help me with this, would you?”

Cut called him from the porch, where he was hefting the front door back onto its hinges. Rex grabbed up a hammer and, while Cut held it in place, hammered a pin back in each hinge.

Cut tested the swing of the door – squeaky and off-balanced, but it would hold. He stepped back, brushing off his hands. “For someone who’s never held anything other than a gun, you’re handy with a hammer.”

Rex wiped his forehead on his sleeve. He must still be slightly feverish, to be sweating on such a cool autumn evening. “When you work for General Skywalker, you learn to adapt quickly.”

Just then a twinge shot up Rex’s shoulder, making him wince. He pressed a hand against the bacta bandage. He still wasn’t healed yet, he should be taking it easier than this – but he wasn’t going to sit around while those two kids’ home was in tatters. He had brought the war to Saleucami. This was the least he could do.

Cut sat down on the step of his front porch. “Take a rest, Rex, you’ve been working hard all night.” Then withdrawing a pouch of tabac from his pocket, he spread a rolling paper out on his knee and busied himself with turning it into a cigarra.

“You smoke?” Rex asked, easing himself slowly down beside Lawquane.

“Bad habit.” Cut gave an embarrassed shrug. “Picked it up from a few of the locals. Suu prefers I do it away from the kids.”

Cut Lawquane had hair grown long, unkempt and bleached light from the sun. He slouched when he sat, seeming hardly to notice the world beyond the pinch of snuff between his dirt-stained fingertips. And though his clothes were worn and dirty and his home a ramshackle mess, he was… relaxed. The lines of his body spoke of a kind of quiet, inner contentment.

Is this what a brother looked like when he had managed to escape the army?

Cut held out a hand, wordlessly offering his cigarra. Rex waved it away. “My medic will give me an earful if I interfere with the healing process.”

“Can’t be any worse for you than commando droids,” Cut pointed out.

Rex snorted. He took the cigarra.

“How’s that healing up, by the way?” Cut flicked a match to life on his fingernail. The sudden flare of fire, warm and tiny, threw orange light against their faces when he lit the cig for Rex. “You’re always welcome to stay as long as needed. Force knows I could use the help with the harvest.”

“Should be good by morning.” He lifted his elbow, testing the pain. “I imagine you’re hurting worse than I am at this point. You did have a ceiling drop on you, you know.”

Cut chuckled. “Ah, you get toughened up farming. Been thrown from my eopie plenty of times; this is nothing.”

A soft wind kicked up, hushing through the crops and bringing their sweet, floral scent to Rex. He took a long draw, letting the smoke linger in his mouth and throat. It was quiet out here. Precious few were the times he’d really felt that.

“You know, Suu had a husband before me.”

Rex turned slightly, listening.

“Shaeeah was five when he died. Little Jek was only two. He doesn’t even remember his pa, but Shaeeah does.” Cut looked down, examining his calloused fingers, his dirt-stained nails. “You did more than just protect my family tonight. You kept Shaeeah from having to mourn a father’s death again.”

Rex passed the cigarra back to him. Cut nodded his thanks.

A wisp of smoke curled up into the darkness, mingling with the stars and leaving behind it the lingering scent of sweet tabac. On this, a quiet autumn evening, it was hard to believe that a war was occurring anywhere in the galaxy – much less on this planet, in this farm.

Somewhere beyond the swaying lines of pink-flowered crops, his brothers – his team – were hunting down General Grievous. Every fiber of his being burned knowing that here, when the war might actually be won, he was sidelined, unable to assist. He ached to be there for them.

And yet – if he hadn’t been here, Cut’s family would not have survived the night.

Strange how these things worked.

“Rex.” Cut shifted, leaning over his knees. His eyes roamed the fields, the product of his handiwork. “After what you’ve done for me, I owe you. Let me repay you with the one thing I can offer you that nobody else can.”

“What’s that?”

“Perspective.” Cut tapped ash out on the ground. “You wouldn’t know it looking at her, but before she was a farmer my Suu was an academic. Taught philosophy at an institute and everything. Now, when I came to her I was in a bad way – any sane being would have shipped me to the nearest Republic outpost and washed their hands of it. But where everyone else saw a clone trooper, she saw a human being.”

As he took a draw, the ember illuminated his soft smile.

“She once told me a story that I think you’ll like. I’m no scholar, can’t tell it like she can, but the general gist is this: there is a man who, from the moment he is born, is trapped in a cave. And this fellow, he doesn’t know anything but this cave. Not the sun, not the stars, not even what he looks like. And sure, sometimes he can hear or sense things from outside the cave – maybe a smell or the noise of wind – so he thinks, perhaps there’s a greater world out there, but it makes about as much sense to him as the Force does to any of us who aren’t Jedi. And this cave – this dark, featureless hole in the ground – is all he knows, so it’s home.”

Philosophic pondering did not rank anywhere near Rex’s interests. “You have a point in there somewhere?”

“My point, Rex, is this: are you actually happy being a soldier? Or is it just all you’ve ever known?”

Cut let those words hang in the air.

He sat back, allowing Rex the silent space to contemplate those words. The two brothers watched the breeze rustle through Cut’s crops as the cigarra burnt low.

For the first time in a long while, Rex thought about Sergeant Slick. How long ago that had been – back on Christophsis, before Ahsoka had come into their lives. And yet Rex remembered every word Slick had said to them, spat into their faces as they led him away.

_“She offered me something you wouldn’t understand: freedom!”_

Slick and Cut were two sides of a coin. Clones who refused to believe that a  _clone_  was all they were.

One, a deserter; the other a traitor.

Rex didn’t know what to make of that.

“Tell me about it, Cut **.”** Rex’s voice was a murmur, rising in the air between them. “Life outside the army. What is it like?”

“The hardest part to get used to is the uncertainty,” Cut said. “There’s no mission objective. There’s no target to take, or battle to prepare for. No orders coming down and no schedule to adhere to. In the army, you’re told your purpose: to fight and win for the Republic. But once you’re out, what’s your purpose? Your mission?”

Rex contemplated that kind of life. It sounded awful.

“How do you live with the uncertainty?” he asked.

“Hell,” Cut said, “that’s what it means to be free.”

He proffered the cigarra to Rex. Rex took it, letting the faint ember burn between his fingertips. “So did you find a purpose?”

“Not exactly. My purpose found me.” He waved a hand at the farm around them. “Protecting this farm, this family. Giving them happiness. That’s my purpose. It’s not grand, perhaps, not like saving the galaxy. But to me it’s the most important thing I’ve ever done. And compared to running into a blast of laser-fire because someone told me to? It makes a hell of a lot more sense.”

Rex thought about Shaeeah and Jek, the word  _daddy, daddy_  pealing like chimes from their mouths. “It does sound nice.”

“If you ask me,” Cut said, “making others happy is the only noble calling in the universe. That’s why I couldn’t cut it as a soldier. I looked at what our army was doing, and all I saw was the violence. The bloodshed and tattered lives.”

“If you weren’t a soldier,” Rex said, “your family might have died tonight.”

“And if we had no soldiers,” Cut countered, “this war would never have touched Saleucami at all. Suu would still have her husband. Shaeeah and Jek would still have a pa.”

This time he didn’t give Rex the time to think these words over; he hefted himself to his feet with a long, tired exhale. What a day Cut must have had. “You should head back inside, Rex. I’ve got the rest out here.”

“Are you certain? I can-”

“You’ve done more than enough. Just rest up.” He grinned, then, a disarmingly open expression on a face built for war. “Your family is waiting for you, and I can’t send you back to them until you’re healed.”

 

\------

 

There was a party on board the  _Resolute_  that night, in honor of Captain Rex’s return. Even a laserbolt to the chest couldn’t keep him down.

In reality it was mostly an excuse to spend the night drinking and forget about the frustrating near-miss they had just suffered, but Rex appreciated the thought anyway. When he walked into the barracks and saw someone had scrawled ‘Get Well Soon Captain’ on a bedsheet and hung it from the bunks, he couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face.

Troopers converged on him as soon as he walked through the door. It seemed the entirety of Torrent Company had somehow squeezed into the twenty-man bunkhouse; he could hardly hear anything for the cheering, the applause. At every step hands clapped him on the shoulder and drinks were pressed into his grasp. Judging by the amount of alcohol being passed around – and the surprising quality of it, at that – somebody high up the chain had been convinced to turn a blind eye.

“A toast to the indestructible Captain Rex!” Hardcase shouted, leaning from the top of a bunk.

With a cheer, every drink went into the air.

After that, everyone turned in to the real order of business for the night: imbibing reckless amounts of alcohol. Astromech droids (stolen from the maintenance crews and pressganged into service) snaked through clones’ legs with trays of drinks taped to their tops. Already troopers were carrying in tables for Force-knows-what drinking games they had picked up or invented.

Rex dropped his cup onto a passing mech’s tray. At least one person should probably not be hung over in the morning.

Then Rex looked up, and through the crowd he locked eyes with one brother.

Even without his armor Rex could spot Cody through a sea of brothers. He stood with his back to the wall, arms crossed, wearing the plain clothes of an off-duty trooper; there was nothing (save the telltale scar swooping over one eye) to differentiate him from a roomful of clones, but even so, there was something about his posture, that subtle sense of gravitas that no other brother could emulate. Wherever he walked, men deferred. And his chin had that slight tilt to it, his posture with that miniscule cant to his hip, that Rex could have recognized from across a battlefield. It was  _his_  Cody.

And right now Cody was watching him.

The troopers, perhaps growing a little sloppy from their fourth or fifth rounds, didn’t even register their commander’s presence. Nobody noticed the way his gaze burned against Rex’s skin, or the way Rex turned an interesting shade of flushed.

A hand on his elbow made him startle.

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all night,” Kix said, looking downright harried. He, Jesse, and Hardcase were also heroes of the night, having been the three that rescued the good captain, but it was impossible to tell by looking at him. “Have you gotten a med-eval yet?”

“Not yet,” Rex said, feeling bizarrely like a cadet who had just been caught out by the drill sergeants. He could still feel Cody’s gaze on him, distracting. “I’ll go in the morning.”

Kix’s eyebrows drew down; his nostrils flared as he sucked in a long breath.

_Oh dear_.

“With all due respect,  _sir,_ ” Kix said, somehow seeming to tower over him, “as the primary medic for your injury, I am responsible for you until you’ve reached proper medical facilities. Which means I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’ve been cleared as fit to return to duty. You of all brothers should know-”

Rex couldn’t handle it a moment longer. While Kix continued his tirade, he stole a glance back in Cody’s direction.

Cody’s mouth curled up slightly. Then he turned and disappeared through the doorway.

A shiver ran through Rex’s gut that had nothing to do with the temperature. He felt suddenly awkward in his own skin, too warm.

“Okay, okay,” Rex said, holding up his hands. Kix stopped mid-sentence. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll head over there right now.”

Kix blinked; likely he wasn’t actually expected the captain to fold. “Oh. Well then. Let me escort you there.”

He patted Kix on the shoulder. “Thanks, but I know the way. You stay and enjoy yourself. And make sure none of the brothers get too drunk, would you?”

Kix wanted to argue, he could tell. He prayed silently that Kix wouldn’t try pulling rank on him again.

“Straight to the medbay,” Kix said in warning, and then belatedly added, “sir.”

Rex gave a playful salute to the trooper. Then he followed through the doorway Cody entered.

Beyond the doorway was a supply room. Backups for their backup supplies, he guessed, as the lights were off and the supplies all covered in a fine sheen of dust. It seemed empty-

A hand came down on his shoulder, wheeling him around. Before he knew what was happening Rex felt himself slammed against the wall. Then Cody was kissing him, arms braced against the wall on either side of him. The kiss was fierce and demanding as if Cody were trying to claim all of his mouth.

Rex smiled into the kiss. He let his helmet drop to the ground. One hand snaked up to tangle in Cody’s hair.

Cody peppered his neck with kisses, breathing in heavily as if drinking in his scent.

“Missed me?” Rex laughed.

Breathless, Cody leaned his head against Rex’s shoulder. Rex absently rubbed a thumb across an old scar on Cody’s neck.

“ _Never_ ,” Cody said, “do that to me again.”

Rex nodded. He had missed this. Missed the closeness, the smell on Cody’s skin. This was home.

“So,” Rex said. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Cody agreed.

He let his hands trail suggestively down Cody’s back, and was rewarded to hear the commander’s breath inhale a soft, surprised gasp.

“Left it at rather a bad moment, last time.”

Cody swallowed, his eyelids flickering closed. “We did.”

Through the walls Rex could hear music, chatter, laughter, footsteps. Only a slim wall separated them from the others. There wasn’t even a lock on the door – anyone could walk in and see them. This was a bad idea. Dangerous.

_Just a bit couldn’t hurt._

His fingertips moved along Cody’s flank, down to his hips (he loved the way his hands fit so well there) then in a decisive moment yanked him forward. With a little noise that could have been surprise or complaint Cody spilled into his arms, flush against Rex’s armor and the waiting heat of his mouth.

“Captain,” he scolded, but the word was a pant breathed against Rex’s lips.

“Cody, Force, the way you look at me…” Rex tangled his fingers through Cody’s hair, dragging his head back to bare the skin of his neck. “I can’t handle you.”

When Rex’s teeth scraped against skin, Cody’s breath hitched – as did his hips, moving in an insistent way against Rex.

This was absolute madness – a fever, hot and delirious – but the sensations were so much, so tantalizing, he wanted nothing more than to unwrap Cody, right there in the confined closet. He wanted to hear him moan and gasp Rex’s name into the heated space. Feel fingertips dragging down his spine, a back arching underneath him, bared and willing.

“Rex,” Cody said, the words more breath than voice, “you need to stop now, or I’m going to rip that uniform right off of you.”

Rex, mind still lost in a haze, chuckled. “Losing all that self control of yours, sir?”

Cody’s head fell back against the door. “Force – _Rex….”_

Pulling away was one of the hardest things Rex had ever done, and it took several false starts before he finally was able to. Rex braced his hands against the wall, taking a deep breath to regain himself. As much as he was enjoying himself, the commander deserved more than a rushed, silent quickie in a dusty storeroom.

Cody seemed to be having the same difficulty. He ran his hands through his hair, straightened his uniform, busied himself looking absolutely anywhere that wasn’t Rex. His face was charmingly flushed.

Then with a shock of alarm, Rex noticed a dark crust of blood on Cody’s sleeve.

He grabbed the commander’s wrist, turning it to the light. “What’s this? What happened?”

“Oh, that?” Cody gave him a wan smile, faintly embarrassed. “Got nicked by one of those droids when we were trying to take out Grievous. I should have been paying more attention.”

Despite Cody’s assurance, the sight was a bucket of cold water to Rex. He hadn’t even considered if any other brothers were hurt in the fight. What else might he have missed? 

“Want me to get Kix?” he asked. “He did a fair number getting me back in the game, I’m sure he has something you could use.”

 Cody shook his head, laughing faintly. “Only you, captain, could get shot in the chest and be worrying about my scratch. I’m fine.”

 “Are you sure-?”

“Yes, Rex, I’m sure.” He lightened the words  by resting a hand, warm and comforting, on Rex’s shoulder. “Go. Be with your men.”

He heard a crash from beyond the door, promising that someone’s drinking game had gotten out of hand. He’d better get back before the entire barracks was destroyed. Rex silenced the nagging voice whispering in the depths of his mind; surely Cody would have told him if it was genuinely serious. “I’ll see you soon?” he asked, giving his armor a final once-over to ensure no sign of their tryst remained.

Cody let a last, lingering kiss answer for him.

That was enough for Rex. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place around episode 3:02.

Captain Rex strode into the yawning cathedral of the  _Resolute’_ s hangar, feeling excitement coursing through his nerves. Today was a day that didn’t come along very often.

Rookies. Shinies. A whole new batch of ‘em, fresh from training – and they were joining the 501st.

His men were already waiting, falling into formation to welcome the arrival of their new brothers. They exchanged greetings and cheerful insults as the situation called for. Sergeant Appo, his second-in-command for the battalion, nodded brusquely as Rex approached. “They’re in fine form today,” he said, indicating the rowdy crowd of troopers. “Acting like we just ended the war, rather than netted ourselves a handful of new headaches. Can’t imagine what they’re so excited about.”

“They don’t have much to look forward to,” Rex pointed out. He adjusted his holsters, ensuring their lay. An officer always wanted to make good first impressions. “A chance to mentor new brothers is a rare opportunity.”

“Yeah, makes you feel all warm and fuzzy,” Appo said, grumbling. “Somehow  _mentoring_  always turns into me working triple shifts to fix rookie mistakes.”

“Hey!” The shout came from Echo. One of the brothers had stolen Echo’s helmet, and he and Tup were now tossing it back and forth between themselves.

“Belay that noise!” the sergeant barked at the men. “Here comes the shuttle now. Try to not embarrass yourselves, you lot of mangy maggots.”

Echo took his helmet back with a muttered curse, sliding it over his head just as the Republic shuttle – plain and white and boxy – passed through the hangar’s ray shielding. It hovered above the deck, easing down slowly.

“Battalion,” Rex called, and the word rippled through the ranks, “atten-tion!" 

And just like that - like flicking on a switch, the 501st suddenly snapped to attention.

Instantly the aimless mass became clone troopers, the lines of their ranks so sharp, so precise, a ruler could have been stretched across them and not found a millimeter of error. Silence replaced the chatter that even now was still bouncing around the ceiling. Nine thousand identical helmets faced forward, a gun cocked on every shoulder at the same seventy-degree angle.

Rex let his eyes sweep across the perfect, precise ranks of white helmets – each carrying the unique story of the brother beneath – and noted the blank spots at the rear, the empty space where brothers once stood. Then he turned and faced forward, just as the shuttle’s ramp extended.

They came off the ship in sharp, crisp step five lines deep. Fifty troopers, armor white and new. Behind him he heard a few whispered chuckles from the men.

“Take a look at that armor,” one of them said. “You could go blind looking at that much white.”

Rex cleared his throat. The conversations behind him ceased.

As soon as the new troops cleared the shuttle’s ramp they halted, and their blank-armored ranks were a mirror of the thousands facing them. Rex gave himself a count of five to examine them, his eyes picking out miniscule errors in stance and posture.

Then he strode forward with a clicking step. “At ease, men. Welcome to the Five Hundred and First. I’m Captain Rex, the commanding officer for this outfit. Who’s your squad leader?”

“I am, sir!” One of the shinies – utterly identical to his brothers, no distinguishing marks whatsoever – stepped forward, snapping a quick salute.

Rex looked him up and down. “What’s your name?”

The rookie hesitated. “CT-5-6927,” he said.

One of the other rookies spoke up. “He doesn’t have one yet,” he said. “We just call him twenty-seven for now.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the 501st. No name? That was a first. It was like walking into battle without your helmet – utterly unthinkable to be lacking such a basic necessity.

Was it just him, Rex wondered, or was there something a bit odd about this batch? Folding his hands behind his back, Rex began a long, studious trek along their ranks.

“Right,” he said. “Helmets off.”

The rookies glanced between each other, hesitant. Certainly not the command they’d expected to hear.

The first step of breaking in rookies, Rex knew, was fixing some of the lessons they’d had forced down their throats. It was the same lesson (in a distilled manner, of course) that Alpha-17 had labored to get into their heads during officer school: clones might make for a good army, but individuals are what win a war.

He took his own helmet off, letting them see his face. “You’re more than your faceplate, boys. I’m talking to the brothers underneath the armor.”

Finally, somewhat uncertainly, the rookie unit took their helmets off and tucked them under their elbows.

Now it was Rex’s turn to be surprised. These rookies – down to a man – had no personalization whatsoever. It was like looking at a mirror set on end; the same face, the same hair, the same identical white armor copied endlessly from one man to the other.  Back when Rex was a cadet, brothers as young as a year out from their growth batches would already be claiming names, trying out their own flairs of individuality. Unfortunate hairstyles were part in parcel with a clone’s youth. (Though as Cody often reminded him with a bemused glance at his shorn blond hair, some failed to grow out of it.) But these boys… there was nothing. And there was something a bit vacant about their expressions, the way they glanced around the hangar without the slightest bit of curiosity, that didn’t settle right with Rex.

“Right,” he said, regaining his momentum after the slight stumble. “If you’re here aboard the  _Resolute_ , it means you graduated in the top ten percent of your class. That’s commendable. But now is when the real training begins.”

He turned, then, and faced down the rookie still standing in front of his brothers. “Tell me, twenty-seven. What is the most powerful weapon in the grand army’s arsenal?”

“The AV-7 ion cannon!” came his instant reply. “All-terrain mobility, but it can blast a hole through the side of a starship!”

Rex chuckled. Seems like he had an enthusiast on his hands – good, since artillery was short-staffed these days. “Nice answer, trooper, but wrong.” Rex cast his eyes over the group. “Anyone?”

Another rookie raised his hand.

“Name?” Rex asked.

“Um, Sonar, sir. Is it… the Turbolaser, sir?”

 The Turbolaser was an experimental weapon, so large that even starcruisers would have a hard time carrying it. It used gravity pulses to tear apart its target at the molecular level. Most people didn’t think it would ever see usage outside of a test facility, as unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) the thing never worked right.

“Points for creativity, Sonar, but still not correct. Fives,” he called, and the word bounced around the hangar’s ceiling, “front and center.”

The trooper in question moved quickly from his ranks to Rex’s side. Next to the shinies, it was suddenly apparent just how much wear and tear Fives’ armor had gained. It was shiny no longer; had not been for a long time. The blue marks of the 501st were worn with pride upon his helmet and pauldrons.

 “Fives,” he said, “what’s the answer?”

 “The greatest weapon any clone has,” Fives said without a moment’s hesitation, “is the brother standing next to him.”

A current of annoyance – indistinguishable to anyone who wasn’t a brother, familiar with the subtlest of variances among the clones’ expressions – spread throughout the shinies. They didn’t care much for this answer, it seemed.

“It’s not a trick question,” Rex said sharply. “The brothers of the five-oh-first have seen more action than any other unit in this war. That lesson could someday mean the difference between life and death. Between mission success and failure.”

He stood in front of one of the boys – one who had rolled his eyes at Fives’ hackneyed response – and looked him straight in the eye. The shiny wasn’t sneering now. "You’re part of the most elite unit in the army, now. And not all of you are going to survive it. It’s my job to make sure as many of you survive as possible.”

 An appropriate silence followed his words.

“Alright, boys, I have your assignments here.” He punched in a quick set of buttons on his wrist-com, sending the data to the rookies’ respective communicators. “Sergeant Appo, if you could please ensure these men get to their bunks and receive their kits? Then I’ll see you all at the sim room in an hour.”

 “The sim room?” The one called Sonar spoke up. “What for?”

“Field test,” Sergeant Appo responded. His voice had a thick drawl, for reasons no clone had ever figured out. Rex’s guess was that he had adopted the gunslinger accent after a late-night holonet movie marathon. “First day on the job every trooper has to take one. Helps us gauge your areas of improvement.”

The shinies glanced between each other.

“It’s just a variation on your graduation test,” Appo said, one eyebrow rising at the rookies’ sudden nervousness. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Actually, sir,” said twenty-seven, “It’s just… we’ve never actually been in a sim room, sir.”

Appo’s mouth drew down into a tight line. “Son, what are you talking about? Never been in the sim room – how is that even possible?”

 “We were flash-trained, sir.”

_Flash-trained?_

Rex took a step back in surprise.

Flash-training was a tool used to shore up gaps in a trooper’s knowledge. It was good for when you needed someone who knew how to fly a gunship  _right now_ and not much else – the process was too similar to reprogramming for Rex’s tastes. But to have your  _entire training_  be through flash-training…?

No wonder these shinies were so vacant-eyed.

Rex’s comlink jingled at him. He turned sideways, giving himself a bit of privacy. “This is Rex.”

“Captain Rex,” his comlink said in Admiral Yularen’s precise, disaffected tone. “Your presence is required on the  _Negotiator._  A shuttle is waiting to take you and Master Skywalker over.”

“Be right there, Admiral.” He signed off, turning to his men. For a moment he contemplated the unique problem in front of him.

“Alright,” he said. “Sergeant Appo, you’re in charge. Put these rookies through their paces. Take Torrent Company off detail and have them assist in getting these rookies up to speed.” He caught Appo’s eye. “Let’s show them how a real brother of the five-oh-first fights.”

For the first time that morning, his second-in-command smiled. “It’d be my pleasure, Rex.”

 

\------

The bridge: a starcruiser’s beating heart. It thrummed, it buzzed, it breathed with a quiet efficiency.

 Datapad tucked under his arm, Cody crossed the bridge with one eye cast towards the grand vista of the galaxy unfolding around them. A massive gray-green planet filled the upper half of the view. It never failed to amuse him that, in relation to the planet’s surface, they were all upside-down.

 “Commander Cody,” called Admiral Block in the quiet tones that spoke he had something unpleasant to discuss.

Holding in a sigh, Cody redirected his course over to the admiral’s station. Admiral Block had never fully trusted him; he was one of those humans who simply couldn’t get over the concept of entrusting  _clones_  with the business of war. “Sir?”

The admiral laced his fingers together. Holo-lights played green and blue against his features, set in a severe frown. “I thought we discussed this, commander. How have I found yet  _another_  mistake in your reports?”

 “A mistake,” Cody repeated smoothly. “If you’d be so kind as to explain, sir…?”

“Look here.” He swept up an order on the holoprojector. “This tank unit is meant to be sent to Kashyyyk, but you’ve ordered it to the Geonosis frontier.”

“Actually sir,” Cody said, all professionalism, “that was no accident. If you take a look at the battle plans that came out last night, Geonosis is in need of extra tanks to sustain defenses against a new Separatist upsurge. It only required a commander’s sign-off, so to minimize delay I sent it directly to the unit.”

“But the current needs at Kashyyyk still stand. If you reroute an entire unit-”

“I’ve already sent a unit of commandos to cover Kashyyyk. With the heavy forests in that region, their mobility is actually more effective than a tank unit. Here’s the order, signed by myself and General Kenobi.” He flipped his datapad over, allowing a moment for the admiral’s perusal. “You’ll find everything is in order.”

 Block’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the document – no doubt, judging from the sour expression pinching his features, looking for any kind of error to pin on him. But he wouldn’t. Cody didn’t get to his station by making the same mistake twice.

 Admiral Block’s lips thinned.

 "Carry on, commander,” he said curtly.

Cody wasn’t much one to gloat, but for just a moment he let his mouth curl upwards. From across the bridge, General Kenobi looked up at him. He caught Cody’s gaze and smiled.

Just then with a hydraulic hiss the bridge’s door opened, and through the doorway walked the Hero of the Clone Wars.

Anakin Skywalker’s presence was impossible to ignore. His personality – or perhaps something subtler, more intangible – seemed to stretch out before him, filling any room he entered. Conversations halted as everyone looked briefly towards him. So forceful was his presence that it took a moment to notice the clone captain trailing in his wake.

“Hey, master,” Skywalker said, the word stretching out in the same way his mouth did, pulling into a wide, easy greeting. “Did you finally find us something worth our time? I’m sick of chasing rumors across the Outer Rim.”

Kenobi sighed, an expression of annoyance that was only half feigned. “I do apologize if you’ve found the business of protecting the galaxy to be less than scintillating. We wouldn’t want to bore you.”

And just like that, the two Jedi had fallen into a familiar banter: Anakin teasing, Obi-Wan shaking his head in wry bemusement. Cody wondered not for the first time how someone like General Kenobi had managed to raise such an unruly Padawan.

Kenobi held court over a holoprojector table, a cramped one in the middle of the data transmission area. There was a brief shuffle as everyone crowded around the holoprojector, and in the end Cody wound up standing next to Captain Rex. The captain gave him a wink out of the corner of his eye. Cody nodded back a polite greeting, knowing that to the Jedi it was impossible to tell how the close proximity made a thrill of excitement race up his nerves. ~~~~

His arm brushed against the captain’s – just an accident, surely – and he caught the tail of an impossible-to-hide smile ghost across Rex’s face. Rex glanced down, hiding his amusement in a show of checking his wrist-com for the time.

“We’re all here, then,” Kenobi said, cutting off one of Skywalker’s smirking witticisms. The Jedi Master looked around the holoprojector, catching the eyes of each of his companions. “You all are the first ones to know about this, because what we uncovered could tip the tides of war. ”

“We get it,” Skywalker said, “this is all very secret and important. Can we actually get to the facts sometime before the war ends?”

“Patience, Anakin.” The words were a reflex by now. He withdrew a data card from his sleeve, holding it up for them to see. “We’ve managed to uncover a fragment of transmission from a Separatist warship. Just a fragment, but as you’ll see, the contents are quite telling.”

“One moment, General.” Captain Rex crossed his arms, an intent look replacing his earlier amusement. “How did we stumble on to something this big? Can we be certain it wasn’t a trap?”

“Mostly? Pure luck.” Kenobi’s smile was faint. “It’s a new scanning algorithm that randomly searches transmission frequencies on hyperspace lanes. Unfortunately it’s proven wholly unreliable… except, as chance would have it, this once.”

He slid the data card into a port. On the projector’s tabletop, a hologram shimmered into existence: a woman in a dark cloak, twin lightsabers strapped to her waist.

Asajj Ventress.

Cody felt a chill run up his spine at the sight. He’d crossed paths with the assassin several times, and each time the republic had nearly been dealt a crippling blow. She was an ill omen, a portend of disaster. In fact, the only person worse than Ventress was-

Then the hologram flickered, and the image of Ventress was suddenly replaced by General Grievous.

He breathed out a curse. The assassin  _and_  General Clanker, together. He now understood Kenobi’s urgency. If those two were combining forces, well… whatever was coming, it couldn’t be good news.

“What are they saying?” Skywalker asked. (And Cody thought Jedi were supposed to be patient.)

“Decoding that audio now, sir,” said one of the clone bridge officers. Cody wasn’t familiar with him.

And just like that, the audio fitted into place, words lining up to moving lips.

_“The clone planet Kamino will be a dangerous target.”_

_“Just make sure you hold up your half of the mission. We must stop the production of new clones if we are to win this war.”_

And that was it. The hologram shut off.

“Kamino,” Anakin said into the suddenly still silence.

Rex’s body had gone rigid, taut in the way that Cody knew meant he was holding in some kind of strong emotion. His hands had tensed into tight fists.

“They’re going to attack our home planet.” Rex’s voice was a dark growl.

Cody cast a concerned glance in the captain’s direction. He understood the captain’s sudden, barely-controlled anger.

They were going to target Kamino. Their home.

After Rishi, he thought they wouldn’t possibly try again, and certainly not this soon. Apparently he had underestimated the enemy’s cunning – or perhaps their depravity. 

He felt his own vision tightening as his limbic system began pumping adrenaline into his veins. This war had just gotten  _very_ personal.

“We’ll make sure Kamino is secure,” Skywalker said. “Tell your troopers in the 501st they’re going home.”

Cody snapped to attention, and felt Rex do the same a split second after. “Yes, sir!”

 

\------

Rain beat a steady tattoo against Rex’s helmet, turning the landing pad in front of him to silver.

The 501st had arrived at Kamino earlier that day. Guards were stationed, air blockades in place; now it was just a matter of waiting, tense and breathless, for the dark sky to suddenly teem with Separatist ships dropping out of hyperspace.

Beyond the edge of the city the endless ocean of Kamino howled. It tore at the legs of Tipoca City, throwing sprays of salt a hundred yards into the air. The surf boomed.

How deep, Rex wondered, as he stared at the waters below. If those braces were to break and shatter in a hail of Separatist gunfire, if the city itself were to plunge into the sea, how far would they sink? Would there even be any trace of it left, or would it all be swallowed by the fathomless darkness?

Once, long ago, Kamino had been a normal planet. A bit rainy, certainly, but it had boasted forests and mountains and wildlife. But then the seas rose, slowly chewing apart the land until the Kaminoans, as unflinching as they were desperate, picked a handful of their greatest to live on in the stilt-cities while the rest drowned. A societally-enforced survival of the fittest.

No wonder the clone army was the way they were, if those were their architects.

His helmet alerted him to a presence coming up on his flank. The commander carried a blaster rifle slung over one shoulder, his yellow armor a bright gleam against Kamino’s stormy skies.

Cody leaned forward, raising his voice to be heard over the crash of the ocean. “Feeling introspective, captain? Or just missed the feeling of being caught in a hurricane?”

The wind and the rain battered down nearly sideways. Of course Rex didn’t feel it, the armor was too well designed for that, but he could certainly feel the wind tugging them insistently towards the edge of the platform.

“I was thinking,” Rex said.

“What?” Cody called. The wind whipped the sound between them, before spiriting it away.

“Just thinking,” he repeated louder.

“Rex,” he called, tapping his helmet’s earpiece, “I can hardly hear you over this howler. Turn on your radio mic.”

He flipped the switch that put him and the commander on an internal channel. And just like that, Cody’s voice – the subtle sound of his breathing – filled Rex’s helmet.

“That’s better,” Cody said, now speaking once more at a conversational level. No longer the robotic echo of an articulator, this was his real voice: clear and oaken-toned, and with that gorgeous hint of a Coruscanti accent. “You’ve been tense ever since we heard that transmission. I need to know you’re good to fight this one, captain.”

“I’m good,” he said, perhaps a bit curtly. Then, in something of apology, he added, “just never thought the war would ever come to Kamino.”

“It’s probably the most difficult target the Separatists have ever taken on,” Cody pointed out. “Except for Coruscant, I don’t think there’s a place with more defenses per square mile. Kamino will be fine. They’ll be making more clones for a long time to come.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Rex said softly.

Cody’s helmet cocked sideways.

“Come again?”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” he asked. “Kamino isn’t like a droid factory. There’s hundreds of thousands of brothers here. Infants and children. They’re treating our home like a military target.”

“Clones are not innocents, Rex. Not by a long shot. We come out of the growth vats with the knowledge of how to fight and kill.”

“And that doesn’t seem strange to you?”

“Rex,” Cody said, and his voice sounded genuinely taken aback. “What’s gotten in to you?”

He put a hand to his head, but with his helmet on the motion lacked any of its usual comfort. His helmet felt too constricting. “I don’t know.”

But he did, didn’t he? It was the words echoing around in his head. They’d gotten in like a virus, spreading and mutating until he didn’t know up from down.

_Are you actually happy being a soldier? Or is it all you’ve ever known?_

“Come on,” Cody finally said. His hand automatically went to steady the blaster strap as he turned around, heading back for the hangar doors. “Let’s make a final round before it gets too dark.”

Right now, Rex was happy for a bit of busywork. He wasn’t used to feeling this introspective. Thinking was more Cody’s line of business. He let his eyes scour Tipoca City, the place that had been home for so very many years.

Cody was right; clones were not innocents, not by a long stretch of the word. But even so, there was still something sickening about the idea that war might come for them. That those growth pods would shatter and collapse, that barracks full of cadets would go up in flames.

Ahead of him Cody stopped short. Rex almost ran right into him. Rex could tell by the tension in the commander’s shoulders that something had changed.

“Kriff,” Cody said, and Rex saw his head swivel instinctively towards the clouds. “They’re here. Five cruisers just dropped out of hyperspace.”

The invasion of Kamino had begun.

 

\------

 

The city trembled under the force of the onslaught, but Kaminoans were great architects indeed; the city held. And when the bombs were finally done, when the last of the droids were swept up, Tipoca City remained standing.

The relief that passed through the clones as they all, one by one, clicked their guns off had a tangible presence. The whine of repulsorlifts faded into the distance as starfighters gave chase to Ventress’ ship; the Separatists were leaving, empty-handed and with several fewer battalions’ worth of droids.

They had saved Kamino.

But, Rex wondered, as he watched Echo cradling the lifeless form of Ninety-Nine, at what price?

Hours later, Rex picked his way slowly through the debris, letting his helmet scan through the levels for signs of life. Elsewhere other brothers were doing the same, in pockets of two or three.

After a battle the silence could get to you. The quiet that replaced the sound of blaster-fire was more than quiet, it was emptiness. Rex tuned his radio, letting the faint background chatter fill his helmet, distracting him.

A pair of boots clattered carefully through rubble, picking their way towards him. He caught sight of a blue handprint on white armor. “Captain Rex?”

"ARC trooper Echo,” he greeted, enjoying the feel of the title on his tongue. Precious little good had come out of today, but the promotion of his two protégés was indisputably one of them.

Echo rubbed at his neck, looking uncomfortable. Considering he’d just been nominated for the most elite shock troops in the GAR, he didn’t look very happy. “I’m not an ARC yet, sir.”

“You will be.”

“Actually… about that.” Echo’s voice sighed through his articulator. “Would it be okay to talk to you?”

Rex gestured, inviting the brother to walk alongside him. The lights here were just a flicker, a spark. The gleaming white walls of Tipoca had become sooty gray from the battle. “What’s on your mind?”

“Are you sure you’re making the right choice?”

The captain stopped short. His helmet swung, cocking in a curious gaze at the younger trooper. "Come again?"

“I’m not like Fives,” Echo said. “Fives can do anything he puts his mind to. You’ve seen him in action – he’s the first into a fight, the first with some kind of crazy scheme. He’s a natural ARC trooper. But me?” He shrugged his shoulder. “I’m not like him. If it weren’t for Fives dragging me along, I’d have never made it off Rishi. Without him, I’m just another trooper.”

Rex’s radar display pinged, indicating organic material underneath them. He knelt, grabbing the edge of the concrete slab lying in their way. “Help me with this.”

 Echo grabbed the other side and together the two clones lifted, pushing it up against the wall. Beneath was the mangled body of a rookie clone.

Rex called in the location for disposal services. He scanned the trooper’s barcode, logging his number in the official KIA record – and paused when ‘CT-5-6927’ flashed onscreen.

So much for flash training.

“So,” Echo said a little hesitantly, “what do you think?”

He straightened, sighing. “I think it’s total bantha-shit, Echo.”

 Echo startled. “Sir?”

“Answer me this honestly. Do you want to be an ARC trooper?”

Echo kicked a piece of rubble out the way, grumbling under his breath. The stone clattered down the hallway, finally coming to a halt with a soft splash as it hit a puddle.

“Of course I do,” he said. “What brother doesn’t?”

“Echo, you’re a good soldier. You fight well. You understand orders quickly and carry them out fully. And you have an encyclopedic knowledge of military protocol.” Rex crossed his arms. “So why don’t you really tell me what this is about?”

Echo leaned against a piece of ceiling that had planted itself in the center of the hallway. He didn’t seem like he wanted to speak. Rex hadn’t taken the time to get to know Echo as well as his brother, but he recognized the look on Echo’s face.

Rex sat down next to Echo. Beyond the hallway they could see other troopers, their headlamps swinging through the dim and dust. “It’s about Fives, isn’t it?”

Echo leaned his elbows on his knees. “I’ve been with Fives for a long time, Cap. Known him since he first got that tattoo, first got in the cockpit of a simulation fighter. Knocked me out of the sky, actually – and I was flying as his wingman.” Echo laughed faintly. “Go figure he’d go on to beat all of us at flying. That’s just who he is.”

There was something to what Echo said. Fives was impossible to ignore; his reckless courage reminded Rex of himself back in his early days. He used to pull stunts back then, and certainly wouldn’t have made it past his trooper days if it weren’t for the brothers (one brother, really) keeping his neck in one piece.

“Fives could be a great soldier," Echo continued. "He told me you said he had officer potential. But he won’t get anywhere if he’s always busy watching out for me.”

Rex smiled thinly. How was it that when it came to their brothers, clones could be so incredibly stupid?

“You have plenty to offer that Fives doesn’t,” Rex said. “Fives may be willing to try anything, but you’re the one that can pull him back when he stretches too far.” Rex laid his hand on the blue handprint on Echo’s chest. The same mark he had laid there long ago. 

“You need to be there, Echo,” he said. “Fives needs you. You’re his balance.” 

“He… needs me?” Echo’s voice was doubtful.

“You’re stronger together. You heard him say it: the greatest weapon a trooper has is the brother at his side. Echo, I guarantee he was talking about you.”

 That brought Echo to a stop. Even his breath halted for a long moment.

Finally the trooper ducked his head, giving a small laugh. “Wow, captain. Um. Thank you.”

“Any time,” he said lightly, but he didn’t really feel it. Truth be told, he felt more than a little hypocritical. How could he presume to help Echo when he himself was so full of doubt? 

_Are you actually happy being a soldier?_

Maybe, he thought, watching Echo head off to find his brother, he should try taking his own advice.

 

\------

 

 Cody was awakened by the bed shifting, dipping as a presence slid in next to him.

He cracked his eyes to see only faint darkness, the familiar sight of his quarters – and the darkened shape of Rex, slipping in beneath the covers.

Fuzzily, only half awake, Cody scooted over to make room. His back was against the wall – narrow bed – and a warm chest came to rest against his. Sleep tugged at him, made only the more sweet by the inviting warmth the enveloped him, the arm that came to a rest on the jutting curve of his hip.

He tried to say something that came out as an unintelligible mumble. He blinked himself awake enough to murmur, “Rex. Everything okay?”

“Shhh.” Lips pressed against his closed eyelids. “Just missed you.”

Cody’s bed was too small for two men to share. They had to press close – Rex halfway on top of him, their legs tangled together. Cody didn’t mind. The military-issue pillow was just large enough for the two to lie with their foreheads touching 

Cody’s eyes slid closed. Beyond the sound of their shared breaths, there was only the faint hum of a ship traveling through hyperspace. That sound was a lullaby to him – a constant background whirr that each night rocked him to sleep.

Rex’s hand trailed slowly along his bare ribcage. The touch was relaxing and soft, a sort of gentle intimacy. It was a sensation unlike any he’d ever experienced. Rex’s fingers were unhurried, comfortable. Ghosting warmth along his skin.

“Should you really be here?” he whispered.

Rex’s lips brushed against his own. “I took care of it. Nobody will come looking for us until reveille.”

Lying like this, kisses were just a matter of stretching out ever so slightly. Cody sleepily indulged himself. Kissing Rex was quickly becoming one of his favorite addictions.

Just then, he felt Rex’s shoulders rise in a great inhale. A sigh quivered against his skin.

Cody brushed his hand through Rex’s hair. “You’ve been acting different,” he whispered.

Rex stretched his neck to claim a kiss.

“No more work,” he whispered. “No more war. Just tonight, I don’t want anything to exist outside this room.”

A kiss came against his lips, long and slow.

Fingertips trailed down his chest and further, drawing goosebumps in their wake. Now Cody was waking up, in more ways than one.

Lying side by side, the space was too constricted to do much more than let their hands roam. Cody tugged Rex, indicating with motions that the captain should roll over, and Rex obliged. He ended up on top of Cody, blanket pooling across their legs in a forgotten tangle.

These officer quarters were so familiar, Cody hardly even saw them any more; the stainless steel walls that vibrated softly with the hum of the ship, the regulation gray blankets made of cheap, mass-produced wool. There was, however, one personal touch Cody had added to his room. Above the desk he had installed a holographic map of the galaxy, and it moved subtly, planets winking and passing each other in the slow, lazy galactic spiral.

That holomap was the only source of light in the room. Rex, when he rose above Cody, was just a silhouette against the stars.

Rex’s palms dimpled the mattress on either side of Cody. “Shall we pick up where we left off?” he whispered.

Cody’s breath sucked in. His response was to reach for Rex’s collar.

He helped Rex unzip his uniform, sliding it down his broad shoulders, his muscular chest. The captain’s chest was faintly haired, growing thicker around his navel. Cody, of course, was almost entirely undressed – he hadn’t really been expecting company (though if he had been expecting  _this_ , he wouldn’t have even bothered with undergarments).

His fingers paused over the puckered scar in the center of Rex’s chest. Resting just a few centimeters shy of his heart, it was a frightening reminder of how close Cody had come to losing him entirely.

Fingers curled around Cody’s elbows. Steadying him, supporting him.  _I’m still here._

Then suddenly he felt teeth nipping at his earlobe. The feeling was more ticklish than sexy, and Cody squirmed, feeling a laugh building in his chest.

“Stop,” he said with a smile tugging at his mouth, pushing against the captain.

Rex’s tongue flicked out, and Cody couldn’t help himself any more. He started laughing.

Rex smiled a kiss into his earlobe. “I love hearing that.”

“What?”

“Your laugh.”

It was a ridiculous thing to say, but Cody felt warmth settle in his chest. _I have a partner,_ he thought to himself.  _A partner. A lover. Like a regular being._

He pressed his forehead to Rex’s collarbone, inhaled Rex’s scent. Cody felt the tingle of fingertips trailing along his arms, down the crook of his elbow, leaving trails of prickled chill in their wake. They traced along ridges of scar tissue, hopping from one ridge to the next.

Then the questing fingers stopped.

“What is this?” Those fingers were pressing a question mark against a new scar on his forearm.

Cody pulled his arm back, tucking it beneath the pillow. “It’s nothing,” he said, but he could already feel Rex pulling back, rising to his knees. The gap he left between them was a shock of cold.

Rex waved his hand at the light switch, and the sudden glare of light blinded Cody.

Hands clamped around his wrists. Cody struggled for a moment, pulling away, but Rex was insistent. He dragged Cody’s arm out into the light.

Light fell across the scarred expanses of skin there, revealing the freshly scabbed over lines across the flesh of his forearm. Seven tally marks, still puffy and red around the edges. They couldn’t have been more than a day old.

Silence stretched between them.

Rex stood frozen above him, face masked, hand clamped on Cody’s wrist. “These weren’t there before.”

Cody’s heart thudded against his ribcage. Each beat made his vision shake. He couldn’t look at Rex; instead he stared at the rumpled mess of regulation sheets lying twisted on the mattress. “I took some shrapnel in the battle, Rex,” he said. “It’s just a scratch.”

“That’s exactly what you said after Saleucami. You had fresh cuts after that, too.”

The captain’s voice was thick, wavering with something between dread and anger. His grip was far too tight. Cody chanced a glance back towards Rex; his eyes were full of an expression that Cody couldn’t fathom, couldn’t bear to look at for longer than a moment.

“I thought this was done, Cody.”

Cody was taken aback by the anger in Rex’s voice. And then to his surprise, his own anger flared, rose to meet it. He yanked his arm backwards, finally breaking the captain’s frozen grip.

“ _Done_?” he snapped. “I’m not a speederbike, Rex, you can’t just turn a wrench and fix what’s wrong!”

“So make me understand it! Tell me why!” Rex stepped back, hands clenched into fists at his sides, body trembling with undirected emotion. Three quick strides and he had crossed the whole officer’s quarters, spun, and strode back. His hands raked across his buzzed hair, looking as lost as the commander had ever seen.

“Why?” he demanded again, while Cody watched in silence from his place on the rumpled bed. “Why can’t I help you with this? Why are you in so much pain?”

When Cody didn’t respond, Rex’s energy ran down like a drained battery. He slumped to the floor in front of Cody.

“Just talk to me,” he begged.

Rex was a pitiful sight, folded in on himself. Cody reached out and ran the back of his knuckles along Rex’s cheek. The touch stirred life back into the captain. His hazel eyes rose to meet Cody’s.

“For a while, I had stopped.” It was so quiet tonight; even the lashings of rain that always came with stops on Kamino could not be heard. “For your sake more than mine. It wasn’t until after Saleucami that I started again.”

Rex stiffened. He sat still, saying nothing, locked in that gaze.

Cody finished the unspoken thought. “When I thought you were KIA.”

“Cody,” Rex said quietly. “I’m so sorry. I hadn’t thought… I should have been more careful.”

“You were doing your job."

 Rex reached up, catching Cody’s palm. Tentatively he brushed his thumb along one of the gashes. “Who were they?”

“Two-twelfth soldiers,” Cody said wearily. He pointed to each of the gashes, naming them in turn. “Captain Vijic. Sergeant Hunt. Tattoo, Sonic, and Zapper from Nimbus Squad. Stec and Rook were both pilots.”

“Did you know them all?”

He shook his head. “Not as well as I should have.” Cody folded his hand over the wounds, hiding them from sight. “We were lucky today. The losses could have been much higher.”

“You’re not alone, Cody. You have brothers, people who care for you.” Rex’s hands rested on Cody’s knees. He looked up at him, eyebrows drawn down into a look of such confusion and anguish and pleading. “I’m not leaving you. Please, stop this.”

“You know that’s a promise you can’t keep.”

“ _Cody.”_ He rose, grabbed him by the shoulders. “I am _not_ _leaving_. This war is not going to get me, not now that I have something to fight for. This galaxy can send whatever it wants at me. I’m going to keep coming back for you.”

Cody looked down at his hands. The light seemed to catch on every scar on his skin. “I want to believe it,” he said.

Rex sat beside him. He gently threaded his fingers through Cody’s, tightening his grip until he felt Cody respond.

“I’m not leaving,” Rex promised. “I’m with you, Cody. Wherever this war takes us, I’m with you. I promise.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place around episode 3:17.

The officers of the 7th Sky Corps had a tradition: every time they made it back to Coruscant (which was vanishingly rare, these days), they would treat Commander Fox to a night of drinks, cigars, and sabacc cards. Fox was too good of a trooper to waste away guarding the Senate building.

They met in Fox’s apartment, a hundred stories above the streets of Coruscant. Four clone officers sat around a too-large table, nursing their first drinks of the evening. The smell of cigars mingled with cooking meat, creating a haze of smoke that lingered near the ceiling. From somewhere in the background the sound of jatz music filled the air.

“Show them,” Sergeant Appo said and leaned back in his chair. He slapped his electronic cards down on the table, fanning them out in one smooth motion.

The other three officers all set their cards down. A tense moment of silence as the tallies were counted.

And then a burst of incredulous laughter rang out.

“How do you keep doing this?” Fox demanded, tossing his chips in Cody’s direction. Cody collected the chips with a polite shrug, adding them to his already massive pile.

The brothers grumbled, and mutterings of ‘ _lucky bastard’_  were heard as the players eyed their diminishing stacks.

“Where is Rex?” Oddball demanded. “I can always earn a few credits off him.”

Cody gathered up the cards, shuffling them back together for the next hand. “He said he had a surprise, and he’ll be running late. That’s all he would say.”

The men waited, watching as cards were dealt out to each in turn. Fox picked up a cigar, putting it between his teeth. Unlike the other brothers he wore civilian clothing: pants and jacket in the Mandalore fashion, with soft, comfortable-looking boots.  “It’s a bit weird playing without Rex,” Fox said, a curl of tabac smoke filtering through his lips as he spoke. “Cody, you’re his boss; what’s the ol’ gunslinger up to these days?”

_Rex shutting the door behind them, his hands reaching for Cody before their helmets had even hit the floor-_

“Oh, the usual,” he said.

Oddball cracked a grin. “Knowing him, ‘the usual’ probably involves some ladies. Am I right?”

_The captain’s hands gripping on to his hips, a mouth hot and slick on his skin –_

_"_ Just business, unfortunately." He began to dole out cards to the players. “Ever since that bounty hunter took the senate hostage, we’ve been grounded on Coruscant. Rex has been assigned to protect Senator Amidala indefinitely.”

He saw Fox frown, and instantly regretted even bringing it up. With all the insanity that had hit Coruscant recently, as head of the Senate Guard Commander Fox must have been bearing the brunt of it.

“It’s only a temporary situation,” Cody added in a sort of apology. “It’ll all clear up soon enough.”

Fox’s return smile was wry and unconvincing. “I hope you’re right on that one.” He tipped his head back and emptied the last of his whisky, then rose to his feet with a slightly unsteady sway. “I’m going to check on those steaks. Anyone want a refill while I’m up?” They all responded in the negative, and Fox disappeared into the kitchen.

While they waited for their host to return, a sort of quiet settled among them. Normally these nights were lively, bright affairs, Rex and Fox jibing each other until the officers were all falling out of their chairs laughing. Rex’s absence was present in more than just his empty spot; it was present in the silent air around them.

Of course, it wasn’t just Rex’s absence that made this night an unusually solemn affair.

Cody cleared his throat. Eyes turned towards him. “Whose turn is it to start?”

 

\------

 

Two empty glasses sat at Cody’s elbow. A third was nearly finished.

From the front door came a shuffling, scraping noise; the kind of noise that indicated someone was about to enter. Then the door slid back and Rex stepped through.

A chorus of noise burst forth as soon as the captain appeared: cheers, greetings, indignation.

 “About time,” Oddball complained. “Where’ve you been? I’m nearly broke!”

The captain’s cheeks were pink from the wind outside, matching the red military-issue tunic he had donned. In one hand he carried a shopping bag. “Missed you too, Davijaan,” he called back with a laugh. He came to a stop behind Cody’s chair, one hand absently resting on Cody’s shoulder. “Did I miss anything?”

Cody felt his face growing warm, a flush that had nothing to do with the cheap alcohol but, hopefully, could be passed off as such. The hand lingering on his shoulder was warm, strong, and comforting.

“Just Cody emptying our bank accounts,” Oddball grumbled. “Hurry up and get dealt in, I need to start earning some of this back.”

Rex looked down at Cody, one eyebrow raised in bemusement. “I’m not  _that_ bad at sabacc. Am I?”

“You really are, I’m afraid.” Cody tilted his head up, intending to soften his words with a smile – and then their gazes met.

Kriff. If Cody had thought a steady relationship would dull his obsession with Rex – that time and familiarity would dull the passion of new discovery – he had gravely miscalculated. If anything, over the past four months it had only gotten worse. Those hazel eyes were a tractor beam, drawing him inexorably in; they made the breath still in his lungs. He could not look away if he tried.

He felt a fool around Rex; a delirious, naïve Shiny, drunk on power and the brilliance of living. What was this power Rex had over him, that made him feel so alive, so complete?

Rex’s eyes crinkled, reading Cody’s emotions in the single span of a second that passed between them. The hand on his shoulder squeezed once, reassuring.

Just then Fox returned from the fresher, wiping water from his hands on to his tunic. His gaze flicked from Cody, then up to the captain still standing behind him. Neither man noticed the faint expression of surprise that passed across his face. Just a moment, and then it was gone.

“Rex,” Fox greeted pleasantly. “Sorry we started without you. What’s this about a surprise?”

“It’s on its way.” Rex slid into the chair next to Cody, handing over his shopping bag. Rex’s fingertips were chilled when they brushed his own. “Here’s what you asked for.”

Sergeant Appo leaned forward, his cards temporarily forgotten. His eyes were trained on the bag, perhaps sensing its contents in the way a wompa could always sense the presence of meat. “What’s that?”

“A promise I made,” Cody said, and out of the bag he pulled a bottle of the finest Corellian rum. Light sparkled on the glass bottle, illuminating the sweet amber liquid within.

Sergeant Appo read the label and whistled appreciatively. “That must have been one hell of a bet you lost, Cody. I couldn’t afford this if I tried.”

“It’s not a bet,” Cody said, pulling the bottle away before Appo could get his fingers on it. “It’s for-”

He stopped abruptly, and when his eyes flickered towards the empty chair, everyone understood.

An appropriate silence settled over the group. There was no question what was on everyone’s mind. They had all seen the hologram. The bounty hunters had ensured that; it had been broadcast to every computer in the GAR’s holonet system. Nobody would forget the sight of Commander Ponds on his knees. A blaster at his head.

Defiant to the end.

Fox leaned over, taking the bottle from Cody. He cracked the seal with one hand. “A toast,” he declared. With a flick of the wrist he doled out a portion into each of their glasses. The cards were, momentarily, forgotten. Each man solemnly took his drink in hand. “Who are we drinking to, tonight?”

“To Commander Colt.” Oddball’s voice was softer than Cody had ever heard. Colt had been the pilot’s best friend.

Cody thought of a broken body lying crumpled on the ground, and said, “to Ninety-Nine. Not a trooper, but a brother to the end.” The others nodded at this.

“To Denal,” said Appo.

“To Captain Keeli.”

“To Hevy, Cutup, and Droidbait,” Rex said. “Three dumb-ass Shinies that saved the Republic.”

Fox held up his glass. “To Ponds.”

Cody looked down into the alcohol in his glass, and found he couldn’t say it. His tongue was thick.

Then he heard a voice echoing, “to Ponds,” and looked up to see it was Rex.

He summoned up a faint smile for Rex, and together the men downed their drinks. Cody squeezed his eyes shut as the rum went down like fire wrapped in honey. The heat spread warmth through his limbs.

Appo whistled, looking at his glass. “Damn. That is  _good stuff._ ”     

The comment brought a chuckle out of all of them. “It really is,” Cody agreed.

 

\------

           

A fourth empty glass came to rest with the others. He was trailing, though; Fox was nearly done with his fifth, and Appo’s collection of bottles and cups had reached a number that Cody no longer cared to count. The sergeant had gone red-faced and cheerful (or as cheerful as Appo got, which mostly consisted of alternating between pushing more drinks on Rex and attempting to get Fox to put on some ‘real music’.)

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

Rex was the first to his feet. “I’ve got it,” he announced, leaving them all looking at his retreating back in some mystification.

“Were we expecting someone else?” Cody asked Fox. Fox shook his head.

A second later the captain returned, wearing a smile for reasons that weren’t immediately clear. “I promised you all a surprise, didn’t I?” Rex said. Then he stepped aside, letting a pair of men through.

For a second none of them recognized the two ARC troopers who stepped through the door, their shoulders and hips heavy with the weaponry that came part in parcel with the GAR’s most advanced shock troops.

Then, all at once, it clicked.

Cody was the first to his feet, a warm smile already spreading across his features. “Echo, Fives,” he exclaimed, extending a hand in greeting. “Look at you! ARC troopers at last!”

The two ARCs pulled off their helmets, revealing their grins beneath.

“It’s been a while,” Fives said.

The difference in Fives and Echo was immediately apparent, and not just in the armor they now wore. Their motions – from the way their eyes flicked across every open space, subconsciously taking in the situation in a single glace, to the way their thumbs rested comfortably against their gun holsters – spoke of a warrior’s mentality embedded into their every fibre. They had gained muscle mass, as well as a few more scars each.

They were more aware, more confident, and something else as well; more… independent, Rex would say.

These were ARC troopers.

The pair moved in tandem, a perfect unspoken coordination. Echo naturally glanced towards the left, while Fives’ eyes swept right; a habit drilled in after three months of constant danger. They operated as a single unit.

Rex turned to the other officers. “Appo, you already know these brothers. Fox, Oddball, meet Torrent Company’s newest and proudest additions.”

Fox took each one by the shoulder, guiding them to the table. “Always room for a fellow ARC at my table. How was training, boys?”

They both looked at each other. Then together they responded, “the most fun I  _never want to have again_.”

All the ARC troopers in the room started laughing, and Cody recognized it as an inside joke. ARC school was awful.

Fives punched Echo in the shoulder, his eyes crinkled in warmth. “Echo here graduated with the highest ranking.”

Echo ducked his head, laughing. “Only because you got knocked out on that final mission. Fives was a dead ringer for Top Gun, but then I had to carry your heavy ass to safety. Idiot.”

In this manner the two joked as they settled themselves at the table. Nobody noticed when one of them sat in the spot that once had been Ponds’.

Fox, the perfect host as ever, went straight for the kitchen. “You boys need a drink. Beer’s fine with you? Great. I’ll be right back with that. Don’t look at my cards, Oddball.”

“I wasn’t!” Oddball protested, dropping the sabacc cards that he had surreptitiously begun to peek at.

A chair scraped back as Appo raised himself to his full height.

The sergeant crossed his arms, glaring down his nose at the young ARC troopers. Both brothers went silent, looking back up with something akin to a flicker of alarm. Appo may have been the lowest-ranking officer at the table, but the 501st’s second-in-command was the kind of man that would walk up to the Supreme Chancellor himself and tell him he was being an idiot. When he glared at you, you shut up and listened.

“Hi, Sarge,” Echo said hesitantly.

Appo reached out, and for an awkward moment it looked like he would pull them both into a hug. Fortunately at the last moment he changed his mind, and instead the sergeant patted them both on the shoulder.

“Good work, boys,” he said. “You’ve made Torrent Company proud.”

Fives and Echo shared a look over Appo’s shoulders.

"Uh… thanks, Sarge,” Fives said, after a moment.

Appo cleared his throat, looking around as if to see whether anyone had noticed his emotional moment. (They all had.)

“Hey, one of you freeloaders want to help me with this?” Fox called from the kitchen. The tantalizing smell of cooked meat wafted through the doorway. “Dinner’s up!”

 

\------

 

 Six empty cups sat by Cody’s elbow – no, wait, he’d filled that one up twice. Seven. (Or was it eight?)

Rex, by contrast, was only on his second. He knew he would catch up, but for now he was enjoying sipping on his brandy and watching Cody: smiling, laughing, teasing the two new ARCs. He could watch Cody smile all day long.

“Anyone interested in dessert?” Fox was definitely in his cups, now. His face had gone pleasantly flushed as he gathered their empty plates. “I picked up a meiloorum pie this morning, absolutely delicious.”

Groans from all around. Only Fives and Echo had enough room left to take him up on the offer – unsurprisingly, since they had spent the last three months foraging for their meals in the harsh jungles of Orellon II. The brothers were still digging into their third full-sized servings of steak with no sign of stopping. (“I forgot what salt tastes like,” Echo had said rapturously.)

Rex saw Commander Fox weave slightly, saw the uneven stack of plates in his hands, and made a command decision. “Hey, Fox, let me help you with that.” He grabbed a couple of plates off the top of the stack and then followed the other clone towards the kitchen. The door shut behind them.

Fox was an odd sort of brother, always had been. While in armor he was utterly fearless, cocky and brilliant all at once; indeed, Commander Fox had become a household name on Coruscant, a poster child for the Republic’s Boys in White (“ _Protecting the Republic – Protecting You!_ ”). But once he hung up his helmet all that went out the window. Fox the civilian enjoyed cooking and collected old music, and though his mettle as a soldier was beyond reproach he had never quite taken to the jingoistic ‘hoo-rah’ mentality so many brothers thrived on. Although Rex had never quite understood the man, he appreciated his company all the same. Fox was a rare and solid friend.

“How was it?” Fox asked, turning on the sink.

“Kriff, Fox, I couldn’t eat another bite if I tried. How do you do it?”

Fox laughed. He took the plates from Rex, piling them in the sink. “A brother’s gotta keep himself busy. I don’t have clankers to occupy my time.” He leaned closer, his eyes gaining a slight gleam. He ushered Rex closer with a spatula.

“Don’t tell the Jedi,” he said, “but when there’s nothing going on, I pull up the holonet in my visor. Almost totally through the entire ‘ _As Alderaan Turns’_ holodrama series.”

Rex shook his head, laughing. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

The meiloorum pie that Fox spoke of was sitting on top of the conservator. Fox went onto his toes, reaching for the pie, and Rex saw the disaster coming a second before it happened.

“Whoah there.” Rex grabbed him, steadying him. He placed the pie on the countertop before it could end up on the floor. “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight. Let me get you some water.”

“You might be right about that,” Fox agreed good-naturedly. He leaned back against the sink, watching as Rex rooted through cabinets for a cup. “Oh, by the way – I was wondering something. Are you and Commander Cody together?”

A bomb flashed behind Rex’s eyelids. The cup in Rex’s hand dropped and shattered.

“Watch out,” Fox said, getting down on his knees and starting to gather up the pieces. “Didn’t mean to startle you, friend.”

Rex looked down at the glass shards scattered across the kitchen floor.

“What?”

Fox shrugged. The glass pieces clinked in his hands. “You know, in the romantic sense. Lovers. Whatever they’re calling it these days.”

A sick, familiar feeling tightened in Rex’s throat. The same way he had felt standing on a ridge in Malastare, watching Lightning Squad’s planes fly past. He looked back towards the closed door; through it he could hear laughter, voices raised in friendly argument.

“How-?” he began, but the rest of the question would not form.

“I’m sure nobody else noticed. I wasn’t even sure until just now, and it’s my job to watch people for suspicious behavior.” He rose to his feet, leaving the shards of the cup stacked on the countertop.  “Don’t worry. Trust me, I don’t have a problem with it – I know some brothers might, but honestly? We’re  _clones_. We were never meant to exist in the first place, so all this talk about what’s  _moral_ and what’s  _proper_  is a joke.”

Rex leaned against the counter. His legs suddenly weren’t working quite right. His heart was thudding like he’d just jumped off a plane with no parachute.

“Cody’s been worrying me for a while,” Fox continued. “The way I see it, anything that can make him smile like that has to be a good thing.”

“Wait. Just – wait a second.” Rex rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t  _that_  drunk, but there was no way this conversation was actually happening. “You think… that Cody and I are….”

“It’s a little late for denial, brother.” Fox nodded towards the pieces of the broken cup. “I told you, I’m not going to judge. You and Cody are good men and rare soldiers. I won’t do anything to compromise your discretion.”

Rex let his legs drop him to the floor. His head fell back against the cabinets, and Fox frowned.

“Do you need some water or something?”

“I’m fine,” Rex snapped. His hands were shaking slightly. “Why are you saying this, now?”

“Ah, no reason. Probably cause I’m drunk.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Hey, let me ask you a favor. I’m leaving town tomorrow to attend a training seminar. I’ll need someone to watch over my apartment. Water the plants and all that.”

Rex felt himself off balance. “What?”

Fox’s eyes crinkled with silent laughter. “It’s real private, I promise. As long as you clean the place up before I get back, we’ll call it even.”

A knock came at the kitchen’s door, and then Echo peered in guiltily. “Hey,” he said, “the sergeant sent me to tell you - and I quote - to either hurry up or get a room.”

Tactlessness was an art form to the sergeant.

Fox held out his hand to Rex, offering to help him up. “He’s right, we should get back.” Then, grabbing the meiloorum pie, he added, “think about my offer, would you?”

“Wait- Fox-”

But it was too late. The commander was already gone, leaving Rex reeling punch-drunk in his wake.

 

\------

 

“So that’s what’s going on.”

He waited for Cody to say something. Over the comlink he heard only a long pause, and an image sprang to mind at once: the commander running his thumb along his chin, his gaze distant and unfocused.

Rex glanced back towards the closed door behind him, then around the empty hallway of the Senate building. True, he was supposed to be guarding Senator Amidala instead of making personal calls, but she and General Skywalker had been in a closed-door meeting for the last two hours. Frankly, Rex had no idea what a Jedi and a senator had to discuss that was so secretive.

“Curious,” Cody finally said. “I wonder what Fox’s game is.”

At the far end of the hallway a pair of droids passed by, beeping and whirring at each other. Rex watched them with narrowed eyes until they disappeared through another door. “Honestly, Cody, I don’t think he has a game. Fox has been a good friend for a long time. He’s about the most honest brother I’ve ever seen. And from what he said… I think he just wants to help.”

“Help?”

“Well,” Rex pointed out, “it’s not like anyone else is jumping to our defense.”

The soft grumble on the other side of the link said Cody was still unconvinced.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” Rex said, “but we won’t have many chances like this… and, well, it might be nice. To, you know, have an evening just to ourselves.”

“Ah.” The word was uninflected, carefully not betraying any hint of thought.

“So,” and here Rex whet his lips before jumping in, “maybe I can see you tonight?”

A soft chuckle hissed through the comlink’s speaker. Rex waited, stomach clenched tight in hope.

“I don't see why not,” Cody said. “I’ll talk to Kenobi about getting the evening off.”

 

\------

 

Rex tested the edge of the spoon. His nose wrinkled.

The pot ended up in the sink.

Rolling back his sleeves, he began to rinse the pot out. Flecks of meat were scalded to the bottom of the pan in places, and in others it was hardly cooked at all.

How in blue blazes did Fox do this?

Rex sighed, abandoning the project as lost, and leaned his elbows against the counter. Kriff, even clankers could whip up a decent dinner without burning it.  Didn’t help that half the gadgets in Fox’s high-tech kitchen would have looked more at home in Dr. Nala Se’s med-lab. Give him a campfire and an insta-ready protein kit any day and he’d be happy.

But tonight he wanted things to be perfect. It had been so long since he and Cody had a chance to be alone, to be more than just the commander and his trusted subordinate. And who knew when the next chance would come along?

True, this wasn’t the fanciest setting for a date. The apartment was nothing like Senator Amidala’s sprawling penthouse with its wind-swept balconies; just plain walls and cheap furniture crammed into a too-small space. (Cut Lawquane’s house had been equally cluttered; for all their military discipline, it seemed clones were surprisingly poor homemakers.)

What it did have, however, was a view.

Coruscant was not a beautiful planet – not like Naboo or Alderaan’s snow-capped mountains. But something about the limitless lights stretching in every direction without end took Rex’s breath away. Every light represented a life, didn’t it? Homes, airspeeders, bars, janitor droids cleaning up offices. How many billions of lights could he see just with a single sweep of his eye?

These were what he was fighting for. What they all were fighting to protect. Did those people know how much his brothers were sacrificing for them? Unasked for, but willingly given.

He heard the door click, footsteps at the front. “Rex?”

Cody was early. The commander came through the door, looking around the empty apartment like he’d never been there before.

With an embarrassed shrug, Rex indicated the mess that he had managed to make of Fox’s kitchen. “Well, dinner is a bust.”

Cody slowly turned, taking in the disaster before him: pots in the sink, mangled vegetables, and a fine dusting of flour somehow coating every surface (including Rex).

Then he laughed.

“Only you, Rex,” he said, shaking his head in amused disbelief. The commander dropped his helmet on the table, and busied himself with removing the rest of his armor. “How about I order some delivery? There’s a place down the road that makes a decent tiingilar.”

Rex didn’t respond. He was suddenly too distracted to focus on food.  Cody noticed the sudden silence, and glanced over his shoulder. He caught Rex staring and lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“Just enjoying the view, commander.”

Rex was rewarded with the sight of Cody’s face turning charmingly pink. Rex’s smile widened. “Get out of here,” Cody grumbled, hiding his embarrassment behind chucking one of the pieces of armor at him. “Go make yourself useful. I’ll clean up in here.”

Rex stepped closer. “Or,” he said musingly, reaching out to rest his hands on Cody’s hips, “we could skip dinner and go straight to the workout.”

Cody’s breath hitched.

The clone trooper’s bodysuit was blessed with a variety of hidden pockets, meant for carrying credits, or datacards, or any other odds and ends a trooper might need. Cody’s hand slid down Rex’s flank, and brushed against one of those hidden pockets. When those fingers ran over a conspicuous bump, they paused.

A smile tugged at Cody’s lips. “Always prepared, eh captain?”

“Ever hopeful.” Rex pulled him in closer.

For the next several minutes both cleanup and any attempt at obtaining dinner were quite thoroughly abandoned.

“Wait,” Cody said, pulling away suddenly. “Should probably close the blinds first.”

They both looked over at the window. Metal slats covered the window, with no obvious pulley mechanism or other method of closing them readily apparent.

“Okay,” Rex said, hating the word even as he said it. “Any idea how to do that?”

After a few minutes of searching, they located a panel by the window with half a dozen buttons on it.

“How about this thing?” Tentatively he pressed a button.

All the lights in the apartment went out.

“Not that one, apparently.”

“Oh, really?” A few more literal stabs in the dark and he finally got the lights back on, but the window was no closer to being shut.

Cody crossed his arms, watching him, and Rex could all but feel the commander’s smirk on his neck. “How can you pilot a starfighter and not be able to figure out how to close the blinds?”

“Why don’t you come here and show me how it’s done, then?” Then when Cody reached over Rex’s shoulder, aiming for a button in the top corner, Rex stopped him with an annoyed, “no, I already tried that, it shut off the lights.”

“That’s because you have to press it after this one-“

“No- you’re making it worse-“

The two officers struggled momentarily, fighting for control, before they both looked at each other.

They started laughing.

“We are terrible at this,” Cody pointed out.

“Well,” Rex said, smiling, “stick to what you know.”

“And what is that?”

Rex kissed him.

Cody reached over, then, and pushed a button that Rex hadn’t even noticed yet, and the blinds slid closed. The last glimpse that anyone looking in would see was Cody kissing his lover, his captain, his Rex.

Helping Cody the rest of the way out of his clothing was awkward and fumbling, but after several moments the commander was deliciously –deliriously – naked, and that more than made up for it. If kissing Cody before had been wonderful, doing it now, coupled with the naked slide of skin, was euphoric.

And then there were hands resting over his bare hips, a question in their lingering, hesitant touch:  _this?_  

Cody leaned in to that touch.  _Yes._

Rex’s kiss deepened. His hands grew more confident, shedding the last of the clothing between them.

Cody took him by the hand, and Rex followed.

 

\------

 

High above the Coruscant skyline shades were drawn over a darkened window; to any outside observer the room was empty, though none bothered to look.

A rhythmic creaking noise broke the stillness.

“Cody-”

A soft, bitten-off moan.

And then there were breaths, hot and wet and shared in the space between their lips. Two bodies pressed close, the great barrels of their chests heaving.

Rex whispered something. Three words - soft, barely audible above the pant of breath. And yet nonetheless they made Cody’s hands still in place.

“What’s that?”

Rex looked up and caught his gaze.

A long moment passed.

“Nothing,” Rex said.

“Rex-”

“Never mind.” Rex rolled sideways, leaving Cody’s skin tingling from sweat and the sudden loss of heat.

Cody’s hands followed, holding him in place. “Wait, Rex.” When Rex would not turn he took the captain by the chin and kissed him, slowly. Letting it say what he could not.

It wasn’t much – certainly not what Rex deserved. But it was all Cody could offer.

Slowly, Rex began to relax once more. They settled together, lying close despite the heat, despite the sweat. Rex’s fingers trailed along the skin of Cody’s arm.

“Your scars are fading,” he said suddenly, making Cody’s breath hitch.

Cody looked down at the seven tally marks on his arm. “Yeah,” he agreed, feeling a strange pang even as he did.

He felt the bed shift as Rex rose to his elbows. Then with a ghosting brush of skin Rex leaned over and pressed a kiss to the faded skin of Cody’s arm.

Cody sensed there was something on Rex’s mind, but the captain didn’t want to give voice to it. The matter of Cody’s scars had never truly been laid to rest between them. But he had done what the captain had asked, and had not picked up a razor once in the long months since Kamino. And for his part the captain had kept his side of the bargain: his warm, heavy weight beside him was proof enough of that.

Cody stretched out a hand, enjoying the luxurious freedom of touch. He traced the line of Rex’s bicep where it curled against the pillows.

Rex’s voice was scratchy and hoarse. “So this is what it’s like to be a civilian, huh?”

“It’s very…. quiet.” Cody wasn’t sure how much he liked it, honestly. Everything was so… soft. Insulated. On a starcruiser you were never more than a wall away from your brothers. The sounds of war – clanking, chattering, boots stomping, the click of guns – became a background soundtrack to life itself. By comparison the silence was uneasy. Silence was dangerous.

Rex lay his head back down. “I wonder how Fox puts up with it.”

Cody made a soft noise of agreement. He stretched his legs, feeling the unfamiliar slide of sheets against his skin. In the morning they would put their armor back on, pick up their blasters, and once again become Commander Cody and Captain Rex. They would return to the battlefield, to the never-ending war.

But for now they had this moment.

It wasn’t that bad, after all.

At length, Rex turned over, facing him. “There are some benefits to it, though.”

Cody raised an eyebrow. “And what is that?”

“Well, for one, there’s nobody around to overhear us.” His mouth curled into a devilish smirk. “So I can finally find out how loud you can get.”

Cody groaned. “Rex,” he said warningly.

“I’ll bet you that by the end of the night I’ll have you screaming out my name.”     

“ _Rex._ ”

Laughing, Rex buried his head in Cody’s shoulder.

They didn’t speak about anything else for a long while.

 

\------

 

All too soon, the needs of the war arose and once again, the two officers donned their helmets and shipped off across the galaxy. Mandalor, Bimmisaari, New Cov, Duros. Pirate raids and droid attacks. Three weeks passed before Rex saw Cody again - and when they did, it was under the most dubious of circumstances.

They stood side-by-side, looking over the huge shipping factory with the dubious expressions of someone who had just learned that their new sparring partner was a rancor.

“Of all the insane ideas Skywalker’s ever had….” Cody shook his head, not even bothering to finish the thought. Rex nodded in agreement.

Encasing themselves in shipping carbonite? It was  _theoretically_  safe. The way the bomb they dropped on Malastare  _theoretically_ would have no consequences. Or how the Jedi Temple was  _theoretically_  impenetrable, and they’d all seen how that ended up.

Sometimes, Rex thought ruefully, the Jedi got a little too enamored with their cockamamie plans.     

Speaking of Jedi…

They both watched as Kenobi and Skywalker stepped onto the carbon freezing platform. Seeing the Jedi step without hesitation onto the pads gave him a small burst of confidence – enough to stride forward and take his own place, followed by the rest of the clone force. Twelve of them in all; half his own men, half of them Cody’s.

He looked back. The last sight he had, before metal swallowed his view, was of Cody’s gaze catching his.

Then a moment of searing pain-

-and he was stumbling on to dark ground, gasping for breath. His body felt like a weight was pressing on his chest. He was  _cold_ , so  _cold_  like he’d never felt, even his lungs didn’t remember how to function.

Dark sky, dark earth, and the searing heat of a lava pit nearby – where were they?

The Citadel, he blurrily remembered. It had worked?

Yes, it had worked.

He slowly rose, fighting down a wave of nausea. The Jedi were already recovered, and by the sounds of things, were gearing up to give Ahsoka an earful. (Wait, Ahsoka? That was new.)

When Cody dropped, Rex’s hands were there to catch him, steady him down to the ground. 

They shared a quick smile. Then he was moving on to help the next trooper.

While the Jedi berated their Padawan, Cody and Rex gathered their troops. He looked around the assembled ring of soldiers. It hadn’t been easy choosing men for this mission; these were the quickest, the most adaptable troopers from their units.

“All accounted for,” Cody said, counting them all in a single sweep of his helmet. “Everyone good to go?”

A chorus of nods and affirmatives, as expected. Though even Rex was still feeling the aftereffects of the freezing process – numbness in his extremities, and his vision stubbornly refused to clear – they all would never let such minor inconveniences jeopardize the mission. This was why they had chosen these men.

“Check your weapons,” Cody continued. He already sounded back to fully functional; you wouldn’t think he had just come out of carbonite freezing a minute ago. “This mission will rely more on stealth and luck than any skill with a blaster, but we’re in enemy territory now. Be ready to engage at any moment.”

“Everyone ready for this?” Rex asked, jumping in effortlessly. “If things go as planned, we should be able to get out of here with minimal casualties.”

The response was a round of clicks as the clones turned off the safety on their weapons.

“Alright, boys,” Rex called, “move out!”

 

\------

 

It didn’t go as planned.

 

\------

 

The ride back was silent. Their gunship flew quick and light through the atmosphere, unburdened as it was by the unexpectedly few passengers. The engine vibrated beneath their feet.

When the LAAT/i finally touched down in the  _Resolute_ ’s hangar, nobody felt like celebrating.

“I must report to the Council,” Obi-Wan said softly, arms folded as he stepped off the gunship. “Anakin, Ahsoka, you come too.”

For once the Jedi did not object. Ahsoka moved to the side of her master, glancing towards Rex as she did so, and Rex caught a flicker of concern in her blue eyes. Then all three departed in a sweeping cloud of silence and soft footsteps.

A victory – was that what this was? They had recovered the data that Master Piell had been holding on to. Even managed to save a few of the officers. But it somehow still felt like a defeat.

Cody took off his helmet. “Well done, men,” he said in the same tones one would recite a piece of long-memorized data. “Rest up, then visit medbay to check for any lingering carbon freezing symptoms. I’ll debrief in the morning.”

A few of the men offered up halfhearted ‘yes sir’s. Fives, however, said nothing. He turned and walked off in silence.

Cody watched Fives leaving, his features set in a contemplative frown. “Rex,” he said quietly, “I think you should go talk to him.”

“Are you sure? He might just need time alone to grieve.”

“I’m sure,” Cody said. “I know that look on his face, Rex. ARC trooper Fives shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  
  
\------

 

The lights were off in Fives’ room. When the door opened, the light spilling in from the hallway was a stark rectangle against the black.

“Fives.”

The ARC trooper stood at his washbasin, hands clenched on the steel sink. There was something ominous in the way his head bowed, the way his shoulders hunched.

Rex took a step into the room. The darkness in the room engulfed him instantly. He couldn’t read Fives, but the atmosphere in the room worried him.

“Fives,” he said again, “talk to me.”

“Did you need something?” Fives’ voice didn’t sound like him. His fingers tightened over the steel sink.

Rex let the door slide shut. “I’m here for you, Fives.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Get out!” Fives grabbed his helmet and hurled it at the wall. The helmet smashed into the mirror, cracks spiderwebbing across the surface.

Rex leapt into action. He grabbed Fives’ arm before he could do anything else. ARC training had made Fives  _strong_ ; it took all of his strength to keep him from ripping out of his grasp.

Fives gave a cry, a wordless howl of agony. A scream from a soul ripped in half. 

And then all at once he sagged, dropping like a marionette whose strings had just been cut. His hands fell limp at his sides, head dropping to his chest.

Rex guided him as gently as he could to the bunk, trying not to drop the two-hundred-pounds of ARC trooper that was hauling him off balance. He only partially succeeded, and after a moment managed to get him sitting – more or less – on the hard and unforgiving mattress.

Fives leaned his forehead against Rex’s arm. His shoulders trembled; his teeth ground against each other.

This was the last of Domino Squad. First Hevy, Cutup, and Droidbait, and now Echo.

Fives’ voice was a heartbreaking whisper. “What am I supposed to do without him?”

Rex looked at him. Then he shook his head.

“I don’t know.”  
  



	14. Chapter 14

Time began to turn. 

And things began to change. Not for the better.

On Umbara, Rex raised a gun at his superior officer, hand shaking and trembling, and thought he could sink no lower.

Until Ahsoka – _Ahsoka –_ killed an unarmed prisoner. (Only, no, it wasn’t her, it was another Jedi. But then even though they found the real culprit, she walked away anyway, and Rex was left holding the frayed threads of questions without answers.)

And then Tup went mad.

 Then Fives.

 Rex didn’t know what to do.

 He held Fives’ body in his arms, looking at the still and silent corpse and felt nothing. Detached. Here, finally, he had gone beyond the count of grief. A ring of red-armored clones surrounded them; Commander Fox looked at him and shook his head, once, sadly.

 Fives’ last words burned into his mind, each one tinged in blood **.**

  **“** _All I ever meant to...I only wanted to do my duty....”_

 And the words were so similar, such an echo, of words he had heard not long ago:

  _Are you happy? Or is it all you've ever known?_

 “Let’s go, Rex,” Anakin said softly.

 Rex had never felt so very, very alone.

 

\------

“Captain Rex speaking.”

“Rex, what’s going on? You were supposed to report back an hour ago.”

“Sorry, commander. I figured I should check the perimeter again. We haven’t figured out where the security breach is coming from, so-”

“ _Rex_.”

“Sir?”

“Forget work for a moment. Are you… doing alright?”

Silence _._

“It’s been a week since Fives’ death, but you’ve barely said a word about it. I know he... meant a lot to you.” 

Silence.

"Rex?"

"We're soldiers. Sometimes soldiers die. That doesn’t change the mission."

“Captain….”

"Forget it. Just... I'm fine, sir. Thank you for your concern."

“Don’t give me that crap, Rex. I deserve more than a brush-off and you know it. Kriffing… damn it, Rex, I care about you. Don’t make me come over there and prove it.”

“…I know. I’m sorry.” A long pause. “I should be better than this. Sorry. After everything we’ve been through, I shouldn’t feel so…”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Lost.”

“Hey. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing." Pause. “Well… it's just…”

“What is it?”

“Do you ever feel like we're missing something?"

A long moment, full of weight. 

"What do you mean?"

"All of this. Us. Think about it - a clone army, commissioned ten years before the war even began? If the Republic is as great as they say they are, then why do we exist? Either they were just lucky… or someone knew the war was coming.”

 “We were commissioned by the Jedi Council. You know that.”

“A rogue Jedi, not the council. We don’t know anything about his motives or… what he had in mind for us. Or even who he was working for.”

Hesitant halt. The sound of inhaled breath.

“Fives said there was something about a…  a conspiracy. A plan involving us, that went all the way to the top.”

“Wait... are you implying-?”

“Fives was sick, yes, but that doesn’t mean he was wrong. ”

"Rex - what you’re saying... it’s treason."

A pause. Contemplative.

"Maybe it is. But maybe it’s time someone starts saying it.”

 “Rex… Fives tried to _assassinate the Chancellor_. Are you saying the Supreme Chancellor himself is somehow both fighting _for_ and _against_ the Republic? How does that make any sense to you?”

“…Okay, maybe not. But I still can’t shake this feeling that we’re missing something very, very important. And it’s not going to end well for any of us.”

Silence, on both ends. 

“Let’s just focus on the task at hand, alright? This war isn’t getting any closer to being won. Go ahead and finish up your task, then report back. We’ve got a new shipment of rookies coming in, to fill in for the losses on Ringo Vinda.”

 “…Yeah. Sounds good.”

“And when you get back… well, we can finally have a bit of free time to ourselves. Have a few sparring matches, even.”

 Soft laughter. “That’s awfully forward of you.”

“What can I say? I can’t pass up the chance to lay you out on your back.”

This time, real laughter.

“Alright, sir, I’ll be there in a few hours. And hey…”

“What?”

“I love you.”

This pause was the longest of all.

"I..."

"You don't have to say it. Sorry."

"No, I... I love you too." A soft chuckle. "Kriff, that feels weird to say. See you tonight, captain.”

"See you on the other side."

\------

A single click as the recording turned off.

 Cody stood at attention, mute and dumbfounded. Obi-Wan Kenobi set the comlink down slowly. The sound of it tapping on the desk was audible above the impossibly still silence. 

"Well, then," said Kenobi, and the words swallowed the room. 


	15. Chapter 15

Cody looked down at the Negotiator’s metal floor, and wondered vaguely, in a detached sort of manner, if he would ever see it again. He examined the floor, the worn pattern of scuffed footsteps marring its surface, because it was easier to focus on that than the sour panic tightening its fingers around his throat. 

Kenobi sat down at the desk. He rubbed his hands over his face.

“It’s bad enough that Separatists managed to hijack our communications,” he said from behind his hands. “They’ve done incalculable damage to our war efforts. But then, to upload something like this to the Holonet for the entire Republic to see….”

He should have known something like this was coming. He’d gotten sloppy. Complacent. Had he seriously thought he could hide his illegal affair indefinitely?

He had. Force, he had. Fool.

Kenobi raised his gaze to Cody. Those eyes that normally smiled at him with blue warmth were now distant.  “We’ve issued a statement claiming it’s simply fabricated Separatist propaganda, but the damage is done. Already this audio recording has spread throughout most of the Inner Core and turned into a tidy little scandal.”

“It could be a fabrication.” The words took effort to produce.

Kenobi shook his head. “That’s not true and we both know it. The signature codes match with Captain Rex’s communicator."

The cold fingers of panic wrapped around his throat squeezed tighter. He forced himself to swallow, but it did not relieve the sensation of suffocation. With the floor shifting under his feet he fell back on the only defense he had left; his military bearing, that carefully-controlled exterior that had been beaten into him from his very first day.

"Unfortunately," Kenobi continued, "we cannot verify the identity of the other speaker. They were transmitting from a secure feed, so their relay number is hidden. We do know it’s a clone trooper, and someone who outranks the captain.” He raised an eyebrow at Cody. “Someone close to him, it seems.”

Cody’s heart would have stopped, if he had any further left to panic. 

"But that could be any number of people, so the odds of catching the second speaker are fairly low. Especially since, now that this matter is exposed, he will likely refrain from making any other such errors." He waited a long second, ensuring the words sank in. "Don't you agree?"

Cody said nothing.

"Cody," Kenobi prompted.

And finally, Cody swallowed and forced out a quiet, "yes, sir."

The Jedi watched him for a long moment, his gaze clouded and unreadable. Cody kept his thoughts as blank as he could, sensing the nudge of Kenobi probing at his mind – or more likely, feeling his own paranoia.

"How long?" Kenobi asked bluntly.

Cody flinched internally, but his bearing held. He gazed levelly at a spot on the far wall. The general waited with both a Jedi's patience and the commanding authority that demanded an answer, now.

Cody knew he was in no position to play coy. It was far too late for that. The Jedi was relentless, peeling the layers back that Cody had so carefully constructed; any further pretense at innocence would only prolong the agony.

"Malastare," Cody said.

Kenobi sat back, eyebrows raised high in astonishment. "That long?"

Cody winced, and guiltily added, "or earlier."

Kenobi's eyes bored into him. "How much earlier?"

"I guess... you could say it started after Rishi."

Kenobi seemed utterly at a loss for words. He raised a hand as if to run it across his beard, but left it hanging in midair. Cody had never seen Kenobi so fully taken aback, so far removed from his placid state. Finally he dropped the hand with a slight, bewildered shake of the head.

"Cody," General Kenobi said, "why couldn't you have come to me with this sooner? At this point, all I can do is damage control." He swept his hand expansively across the scrolling holo-feed that showed the latest headlines. "If you had only trusted me, there might have been something I could do for you."

He seriously doubted that.

"Does anyone else know?' Kenobi continued. "Is there any other evidence out there?"

"No," Cody responded at once with a shake of the head. When Kenobi's disbelieving gaze met his, he repeated himself more firmly. "Nobody knows."

Part of him thought of Commander Fox, but he pushed that out of his mind, forced himself to believe the lie. A Jedi was better at spotting deception than a lie detector.

But perhaps - fortunately - Kenobi was distracted, as he gave a curt nod. "That's something, at least." Obi-Wan crossed his hands in front of him, elbows resting on the cold metal desk. “The first step is to distance ourselves from the entire affair. As far as the public is concerned, it’s a Separatist plot to stir up doubt about our troops. Then we quietly deal with Captain Rex.”

A bolt of alarm went through Cody, and for a moment his bearing cracked. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“An investigation, certainly. Threats against the chancellor are taken very seriously, especially in the light of the recent attempt on his life. He’ll be kept in indefinite lockdown until the truth of the matter can be reached. The 501st will receive a different commander in the meantime.”

An investigation. He clung to the word like a safety raft in a storm. If they weren’t already shipping Rex out to Kamino, there was still a chance. "Where is he now?"

"He has already been transported to a military prison on Coruscant. No," Kenobi said with sudden bite in his voice, "I can sense your intent. You must not see him again, Cody. You already look far too suspicious as it is. Rex’s loss was a blow – I can’t afford to lose you as well."

So it all came down to the war again. The war that defined their existence - he had been foolish to imagine he could escape it in the first place. He swallowed his feelings down. Took a long breath. “What do you want me to do?”

"The battle continues, commander. We've heard rumors that separatists may be mounting a full-scale attack on a Coruscant sometime in the near future. Find out the truth of it and prepare the city's defenses."

Bury himself in work until the storm blew over. He could read between the lines.

Cody took a gamble. It was a risk even saying this, but he had to let it out. Kenobi had always listened to him in the past, hadn’t he? “Sir,” he said, clenching his fists at his side, “you can’t possibly agree with this. Rex is one of the best. You can’t let him get reprogrammed-”

Kenobi cut him off. Something the Jedi _never_ did. “Unfortunately, it is out of my hands. Once the investigation is finished, it will be up to a Senate subcommittee to decide Captain Rex’s fate.”

There was to be no more discussion on the matter. The trooper gave another quiet, “yes, sir”, and turned to leave. 

“Cody.”

Kenobi’s voice stopped him in place. He looked up, frowning. The circles under his eyes had become soft, tired pillows. “For what it is worth... you know I am not unfamiliar with improper feelings. And I am sorry it had to come to this. But it must be done."

Cody squeezed his hands into fists. "Is that all, sir?"

Kenobi nodded. "That's all, commander."

Cody saluted, face impassive. "Good day, General," he said, and marched out.

 

\------

 

Rex paced in the cell, three strides by five and then back again. His mind scattered, twisted, broke apart on the bare walls. 

The situation still refused to sink in. It had come for him like lightning on a clear morning. Like a sniper shot: no warning, just sudden pain and a scrambling, twisting to catch up as the world imploded around him.

Senate guards approaching in formation through the chow hall. Commander Thorn saying, _you need to come with us. Turn over your weapons._

Then the pure silence as every head turned towards him. A silence that sang and hummed like fingernails on a blade.

Rex’s fist impacted the wall - the bright shock of pain jolted along his arm, but otherwise there was nothing. The sound came hollow and muffled and died away. 

 

\------

This would not defeat him. He had to focus. Keep calm.

In terms of comfort, the brig was hardly up to star cruiser standards. Still, Rex had dealt with worse - had spent half his life using rocks as pillows and the firmament as a blanket, so the bare austerity of three blank walls and a hard bed was not going to get to him. (The fourth wall was a ray shield, and it cast a constant dim blue flicker over the room. Along with the faint smell of ozone.)

Exercise – that was what he did with him time. Sit-ups, pushups, crunches, air boxing until his limbs burned with that familiar ache. And then, because the minutes moved cruelly slow, he started again.

(If nothing else, he would go to the firing squad in better shape than he’d even been.)

Rex had been in tough spots before. This was definitely up there among the toughest of them. Fighting off the emotions became an exercise as well: the panic, the moments of anger and doubt and hopelessness that lurked in the corners, waiting for him to turn his back, to show weakness.

It wouldn’t get to him. He had to keep fighting.

But at night, when a buzzer sounded and the lights all at once shut off, he couldn’t keep the memories from stirring beneath his eyelids.

Over and over that moment circled his thoughts, an endless loop behind his eyelids: Walking into the mess hall, and seeing every head turn towards him. That had been how he knew something was wrong. Three clones approaching, red-armored, carrying blasters primed to stun.

_Captain Rex? You need to come with us. Turn over your weapons._

_What for?_

_You’ve been charged with conduct prejudicial to good order and discipline. Come along quietly, sir – don’t make a scene._

The last thing he saw, glancing back between red-painted shoulders, was the faces of his men as he was escorted away. The sting of that moment grew in his mind, warping into a sick and gnawing thing.

 

\------

 

The walls seemed closer now. It was impossible, and yet... He placed his hands on the metal. It was warm, like skin, but refused to move. 

The ray shield had a subtle flicker.  Every forty seconds it would come again; a faint, almost impossible to notice spark of brightness, a bug in the electrical system. Even when he closed his eyes he could see it, that faint flash of brightness. 

He found himself tensing up, anticipating its arrival.

Clones were built for action. How long had he been in here? Time; suddenly he had more of it than he knew what to do with.

And the time preyed on his mind.

Nobody came. Nothing to break the endless, stifling sameness.

Was Cody safe? Or was he in a cell like this on board the _Negotiator_?

He wished he could see him again.

 

\------

 

On a starcruiser in orbit above Coruscant, blue hologram light filled the conference room. Tens of ships slowly rotated in orbit around a central bright star, their massive size only betrayed by scale: on such a small screen, the seat of galactic civilization could have sat in Cody’s palm.

Cody focused on the hologram, trying to block out the room around him. Anger and humiliation tautened his spine to steel.

They all knew. Of course they knew. It was plain in the way the others – admirals and bridge officers, men who had no business making it their business – moved in subtle orbits around him, steering clear as if he were infected. They judged him, and he was helpless to do anything but stand there and take it. The few Jedi in the room were at least more tactful.

He took a breath and forced himself to focus.

Ignoring the persistent sensation that he was standing there, naked, on display for the wolves.

"The planetary defense net can withstand a bombardment from anything up to a level-eight superlaser," the projected image of Commander Thorn was saying. "But we will need support against any kind of landed ground troops. The problem is figuring out where the enemy will focus..."

The rest of Thorn’s strategy came and went in a blur of tactics, positioning, and targets. Cody took only parts of it in, the rest lost to his own distraction.

Kenobi's voice forced him back into the moment. “Your plan is good, commander, but this will be a challenging battle, even for us. Anakin? Do you feel your troops are ready for this?"

General Skywalker stood against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He radiated a pocket of darkness that nobody dared approach.

His burning gaze fell on Cody while he spoke, and the commander felt his skin crawl. "The 501st is ready."

"Are you certain? If you're having any issues with the recent change of command, we can relocate your troops to-"

"They're ready." His words were blunt axes. "Just tell us what to shoot, and we'll do it."

“As you will,” Obi-Wan said, not sounding entirely convinced, but he would not press the point. He was always too gentle when it came to his ex-Padawan. "Commander Cody?"

At once, every eye swung to him. Their stares burned into his skin. Cody swallowed, wetting his dry mouth before answering. "I have three star cruisers and eight lesser ships in the vicinity. They can be in orbit within three rotations. But that will put strain on the current theaters they're engaged with."

"It's a chance we will simply have to take. If Coruscant falls, the Republic falls with it." Kenobi turned back to the assembled group. "Very well, we all have our orders. Let's save Coruscant. With luck, a victory here may prove decisive."

Exiting the meeting room was an exercise in discipline. Twelve steps, but each one seemed a mile distant. Cody kept his hands at his sides, visor pointed towards the distant target of the door – locked on as he passed through the enemy fire.

Eight steps. General Skywalker stood near the door. There was no passing around him. Cody's footsteps faltered as he approached, sensing the Jedi's eyes still on him. To leave Cody would have to pass across the Jedi's vicinity, into the range of the lightsaber at his hip. The man's aura was practically a black hole. Cody wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't go for the lightsaber after all.

Two steps, now. The Jedi was definitely glaring directly at him. 

He jerked his chin down in a deferential nod, keeping his eyes on the door. "General."

Skywalker said nothing, did nothing as Cody passed by. It wasn't until Cody had his foot on the threshold of the door that he heard the quiet words behind him.

"It's your fault."

The chill slammed into his spine. He glanced back, but Skywalker was already moving off into the crowd.

Cody shuddered. The hallway outside was empty, and for a second he allowed himself to breathe, for his chip to drop and his eyes to slide closed.

The sound of voices and approaching feet made him snap back upright.

A pair of clone troopers turned the corner and walked down the hallway. They moved unhurriedly, chatting with their helmets off – likely heading for the chow hall. Cody recognized Wooley, but not the rookie he walked with.

Wooley visibly startled when he saw Cody coming towards them. The clones froze in place, slaw-jacked, before regaining themselves. A pair of crisp salutes flew up. “Good afternoon, sir!”

Cody’s jaw tightened. There was nothing a trooper could hide from him, one of their own brothers. He could read their thoughts plain across their blanked features.

Curiosity.

Doubt.

Anger.

Disgust.

“As you were,” he said, and moved past them.

He had almost turned the corner when from behind him, he heard a whisper fracture off and spill down the hall. “… _with Captain Rex.…”_

His hands clenched to fists.

Cody made it back to his own room before he threw his helmet down and took great gasps of air. The sheer mental exhaustion left him stripped and weak; taking off his helmet felt like ripping away the thin veneer of control he had painted himself with all day. No matter how deeply he breathed, his lungs felt tight and starved. His eyes itched.

He ground his palms into his eyes, rubbing away the burn there. Another day of this and he would crumple, crack from the weight of pretense.

The fresher light came on automatically when he entered, flickering slightly as it did; the bulb needed replacing. Cody rolled back his sleeves, turned on the faucet. Cold water felt like a stinging slap against his face.

He stared at his own reflection. Crystalline droplets of water clung to his face, running along the edges of his jaw.

Was there anything – a single thing – he could do now to help Rex?

If he could take the punishment for him, he would. In a heartbeat. He would walk into a firing squad with his head held high, if that would save Captain Rex.

But at this juncture, all that would do was prove Rex’s guilt all the more firmly. Cody had two options: deny it all, and watch as his friend and lover faced the swords of scandal alone, or come clean and meet their now-certain fate together.

The realization physically sickened him. Kenobi was right. The best thing – the only thing he could do – was to abandon Rex when he needed him the most.

_If he is proven guilty – if they send him to be reprogrammed, or to the firing squad – I’ll join him then. I’ll come clean with it all._ The rationale failed to make him feel better.

Cody was not, and never would be, a coward.

But he certainly felt like one right now.

He took a razor out of his shaving kit. The blade popped out easily. Its edge caught the flickering light, silvery and pale.

He set the blade against the flesh of his bicep – and paused.

It was such a familiar sensation, the cold of the metal, the pressure of a razor edge pushing against rubbery skin. The pain didn’t frighten him, didn’t set his teeth on edge the way it had when he first began to do so, years earlier.

What stopped him was the ghost that stood behind him. Watching him with sad hazel eyes.

He caught the ghost’s gaze. _You wouldn’t understand, Rex._

But Rex’s expression would not let him go.

_I’m not going anywhere,_ he said, an echo from a time long distant.  _Whatever you say, it won’t change the fact that I am your friend, and I care about you._

Cody missed Rex so desperately in that moment, so needful that he couldn’t breathe. He could still feel Rex’s hand as it brushed across his chin, tracing the scar over his eye.

But when he blinked, the image was gone. The touch was just air. He stood alone in the fresher, staring at his own sodden reflection.

The razor fell away from his skin, leaving unbroken skin behind it. 

“Fine,” he said. Then repeated it: “fine. You win, captain.” 

To do this now would be to dishonor everything Rex had sacrificed. He dropped the blade in the trash. It made a humming noise as it incinerated. 

 

\------

 

A sudden sense that something was amiss jolted Rex from his sleep.

He went from prone to upright in a second, even as his brain was still processing what had changed. The same cell, darkened for evening sleep, the same three walls – wait.

Beyond the ray shield stood a figure.

He tensed. The figure, slender and small, wore a hooded cloak. In the dim light he couldn’t make out who it was – until the hood was lowered, and in the dim blue light of the ray shield he spotted twin montrals. 

In a nanosecond Rex was on his feet. “Ahsoka?”

“Shh.”Ahsoka raised a hand to her lips. “I’m not exactly supposed to be here.”

Rex moved forward on soundless feet. He pressed his hands to the shield; it sparked and crackled, flecks of electricity dancing around his fingertips.

From the other side of the force field, Ahsoka’s skin and clothes were painted blue. Her image flickered and wavered through the shield’s warping field, like a reflection rippling across water. 

He hadn’t seen the girl in months; not since the incident. The last sight he had had of her had been standing on a platform in front of the Senate. When she left there hadn't even been time for a goodbye. 

There had been so much he wanted to say to her back then. But now, he found himself speechless.

The Padawan – no, she wasn’t a Padawan any more, the same as he wasn’t a captain – the young woman reached forward, pressing her hand against the same spot where his rested. “Oh, Rexie,” she said. “They got to you, too.”

After days without speaking his own voice tasted foreign to him. Rex licked his lips, parting them, and felt the words rumble through his throat. “What are you doing here?"

He couldn't entirely believe his eyes, even now. She wasn’t wearing the same clothes he had grown so accustomed to seeing her in. Plain grays and browns, the standard clothes of a galactic citizen. She smiled up at him, her huge blue eyes crinkling in warmth, but there was sadness lurking there.

"I saw the news," she said. "I'm so sorry. It's kind of all over the Inner Core now. You'd think people would have better things to do with their lives….”

He winced at that, but there were more important matters at hand. “Ahsoka,” he repeated, because it felt _so good_ to say her name again. He pushed against the ray shield, and it sent spikes of electricity shooting up his wrists. “What have you been doing? Where have you been? I-”

“Shh.” She looked around. “Sorry. I can’t really say. I’ll tell you all about it later, I promise. Right now we’re here to get you out of this mess.” She withdrew her hand from her robes and waved towards the cell’s control panel. A gentle Force probe; the lock spun, clicked – and then noiselessly the ray shield flicked off.

Rex blinked, blue afterimages dancing in his eyes. He expected an alarm, but after a second there was nothing.

A warm body suddenly pressed into his arms. Taken by surprise, Rex stepped back. Ahsoka’s montrals poked him in the chin – she was getting big these days – and after a moment he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She smelled of dust and mechanics.

Again, the girl spoke. “I’m sorry, Rexie. I wish this weren’t happening to you.”

“It’s alright,” he said, the words getting caught in his throat. He patted her back. “Tell me something, if you can. Who’s in charge of the 501st?”

“Sergeant Appo is,” she said, and Rex breathed a sigh of relief. Appo would do a fine job. She cleared her throat, stepping backwards. “You won’t have anything to worry about. I’ve already got us both transport lined up off the planet – but we’ll have to go soon. I’m sorry, but there won’t be any time for goodbyes.”

His hands dropped to his sides. “Wait. We’re just going to… walk away?”

She blinked at him. “That’s the plan,” she said with a note of perplexity in her voice – like she hadn’t expected the resistance.

But - leaving? 

He glanced out into the hallway. It opened up before him, dark and waiting. Like a gaping maw. “I don’t know about this.” 

“I won’t make you come with me.” She placed her hands on her hips – looking him square in the eye, and it was like looking at his old commander again. “If you want to stay, that’s your right. But if you do… I don’t think it’s going to end well.”

She was right. There was no good ending possible for Rex. If he stayed reassignment was a guarantee, reprogramming a likelihood, and death still very much on the table. But then, not much better seemed to be waiting out there, either. He shook his head, stalling. “You didn't have to come for me. Why are you doing this?”

“You’re my friend,” she said at once, the most obvious thing in the world. And then, more chagrined: “and I can’t help but feel part of this is my fault.”

“Your fault?” He reached out and gripped her shoulder. “Ahsoka, this has nothing to do with you.”

 “I told you to do it, though, didn’t I?” Her head dipped, eyes leaving his. “I supported you, and now we’re both outcasts. Guess I wasn’t the best person to go to for advice.” 

“Are you kidding me? Tano, your advice was what I needed.” His hand tightened on her shoulders. “Being with Cody is the best thing I ever did.” 

He had never said as such out loud. It shocked him a little, not with the candor but with how true he suddenly realized it was. He had won battles, saved the day, walked in to cities as a hero, but looking back on it – everything paled to the sight of Cody’s smile.

Ahsoka turned faintly pink. She gave a sudden little laugh. “I have to tell ya, Rex, looking back on it – I should have recognized who you were closest to _way_ sooner.”

“Probably,” Rex said, giving her a short little smile. “I mean, Shaak Ti. Really?”

She ducked her head, but not before he saw the embarrassment spread across her cheeks. “We should go,” she said. “The guard’s going to be checking this corridor in a few minutes. It’s now or never, Rex – are you coming?"

 He looked down at the floor of the cell. If he set foot over that ray shield, he was a deserter. No longer welcome in the Grand Army that was his home, his family, his life.

 At that moment he realized his path was already decided. It had been for some time. 

When had it begun? When had he set foot down the course that would inevitably lead him here? A hut on Saleucami? Ry’loth, when he first realized his feelings for Cody? Earlier, when they kissed for the first time? Or had it all begun somewhere even further back, some intangible seeds sewn into the fertile earth of a young soldier’s mind?

 Outside that cell the pathway was dark. Ahsoka was looking back at him, holding her hand out, and he knew if he took her hand he was condemning himself to a life of danger and perpetual hiding. But for the first time he felt a sense of strange, unfettered limitless.

  _How do you live with the uncertainty?_

_That’s what it means to be free._

 Had there been any way to avoid this fate? Maybe there had. But if it had taken him elsewhere – away from Cody – he knew for a fact: he would have made the same choices all over again.

 Ahsoka looked back over her shoulder, lekku spilling down her back. “Rex? Coming?”

He nodded. Then he walked out, head high, into the brilliant darkness of the unknown future.

 

\------

_To: GAR TROOPS_

_Subject: Captain CT-7567 REX_

_After being brought in for questioning, Trooper CT-7567 has escaped custody. Evidence indicates he may be in league with forces sympathetic to the enemy._

_From this moment forward, CT-7567 Rex is considered a deserter and a traitor to the Republic. He is to be captured on sight and returned for trial._

_Signed: Marshall Commander CC-2224 CODY_

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue: 15 BBY  
> Four Years After Order 66.

The lieutenant – what was his name? Rierdan? Rorden? It didn’t matter, he preferred being called ‘sir’ exclusively – dabbed his mouth with an affected gesture, casting a dubious glance at the food.

“It’s no wonder the locals are all so skinny, if this is what passes as fare around here,” he announced. He snapped his fingers at the waitress. “Take this back, find us something worthy of an imperial officer.”

The waitress, a thin Twi’lek with skin the color of roses, tightened her lips but made no comment as she took the plate away from him. It must have burned her up inside to keep silent. Nobody would dare speak out against an imperial officer; at least, nobody who wanted to keep their head attached and residence undamaged. Not when he sat there in his well-shined boots, flanked by armed stormtroopers.

Hot air buzzed around the shabby restaurant. There wasn’t much on this planet in terms of comfort, but at least the place was scrupulously clean. Commander CC-2224 shifted from one foot to the other, trying to ease the soreness. He had taken a shot in the leg on Utapau that had never quite healed correctly. Even now, four years later, it gave him trouble on these long deployments. Just another inconvenience of life these days.

His comm jangled at him and he tapped the earpiece, listening briefly to the report that buzzed through. “Scouts just confirmed this village is clear,” he told the lieutenant. (Rorsan, maybe? He was pretty sure it started with an R, whatever it was.) “Same as the last three.”

“Sit, commander.” The lieutenant hooked his shiny boot around the leg of a chair, dragging it outwards. CC-2224 recognized an order when he heard it.

(A simple rule for survival: assume everything was an order.)

He sat down, careful to adjust the lay of his blaster. Behind him he heard the mutter of the other three troopers. “Sir, with all due respect – is this really the best use of our time?”

The lieutenant scoffed. He was good at it. “Commander, I would expect someone with your level of experience to know better. If you want to catch an animal, you wait for it at the watering hole.”

The waitress reappeared briefly. She had two plates in her hands; roasted nuna, sizzling in a thick sauce. One settled in front of the clone commander, though she wouldn’t even look his way when she set it down. Her hands withdrew quickly. 

The lieutenant tasted the new dish, silverware scraping against his plate as he cut it slowly, delicately. His lips thinned.

 “Acceptable,” he announced to the woman, passing the words to her like a grand compliment. She stayed only long enough to refill his water glass.

CC-2224 could keep his tongue no longer. “The locals won’t be much help if you keep insulting them, sir.”

The lieutenant leaned back, a smirk pulling at his narrow lips. “Is that the famous clone diplomacy? Perhaps that’s how things were done in the time of the Republic, but this is the Empire. We do not cower and snivel to weaklings. We dominate.” He held up his glass, wiping a smudge from its edge. “And if these natives will not show us respect, we will teach them to fear us.” 

“How are you supposed to find the rebels if-”

“Commander CC-2224.” The lieutenant shook his head. “You look, but you fail to _see_.”

Just then, a little boy – ten or so, it was so hard to tell with hybrids – came through the kitchen’s door, following after a spinning droid toy. He weaved through the tables, his eyes on the toy, and had nearly caught it when- 

The boy rebounded, stumbling backwards off the stormtrooper’s leg.

“Oy!” The trooper – Voss Strago, a recent graduate from the Imperial Stormtrooper Academy and one of CC-2224’s biggest headaches – reached down and scooped up the kid by the back of his shirt. “Watch it, will ya?”

 “Lemme go!” The boy’s feet scrabbled against the wooden floorboards. He was small for his age, with stripes on his shortened lekku. He lashed out, but his fists only knocked against Strago’s armor and elicited laughter from the trooper.

CC-2224 rose to his feet. “Put him down,” he ordered.

Strago held on for a moment longer – long enough for the commander’s hand to move towards his blaster – before finally complying. He shoved the boy away. “You ain’t worth my time, kid.”

The boy ran back towards the kitchen. CC-2224 watched for a moment longer, then when it seemed the trouble had passed, returned to his seat.

Throughout all of this, the lieutenant hadn’t said a word. Hadn't even seemed to notice. He was continuing with his meal. Each bite was cut carefully away, lifted into the air, inspected, and only then placed inside his mouth.

“You’re softhearted,” he pointed out when the clone commander sat back down. “Sometimes I marvel that you were ever able to carry out the Jedi Order’s extermination.”

CC-2224 did not respond to that.

“Excuse me.”  The waitress approached warily, her soft voice addressing the entire group. Behind her the hybrid boy cowered. “I’m sorry. I must ask you gentlemen to please leave."

With their preternatural ability to sense blood in the water, the troopers honed in on her. CC-2224 began to intervene, but the lieutenant raised a single finger in the air. _Wait._

“I want to see this,” he said with a thin-lipped smirk.

Strago stepped forwards. There was a quiet menace in his footfalls, in the silent and emotionless visor of his stormtrooper mask. His friends ranged behind him. “Don’t care for the empire’s presence, miss?”

“Your men laid a hand on my son,” she said, refusing to back down. “I won’t be intimidated in my own establishment.”

“ _Your_ establishment?” Strago laughed – a sound that was not even remotely amused. “This entire planet is Imperial property. If we want to be here, we’ll be here. If we want to do this-” he picked up a plate, and then shattered it to the floor, “then we will, and you’ll count yourself lucky to be of service to your Empire.”

The waitress said nothing.

Shatterings and crashes as the troopers began to break more things, emphasizing the point. Shards skittered across the hard wooden floor and bounced off their boots. One of the troopers tipped a table over, and the woman flinched from the resounding crack.

“And if your _brat_ tries to attack a stormtrooper again, then we’re authorized to exterminate threats wherever we find them.” Strago patted his weapon. “Understand, Twi’lek?”

The woman’s face went pale. Her eyes went to her son, then back to the group of imperials.

Strago took another step forward. The Twi’lek moved herself firmly in front of her son. “I asked you a question.”

“That’s enough, TK-478.” The lieutenant held one hand out. He rose to his feet, setting his napkin on the table.

All eyes were on the gray-suited officer. He approached, hands folded in contemplation behind his back, his gleaming boots crunching over bits of shattered porcelain.

“You, boy.” He stepped around the waitress, speaking directly to the boy behind her. “How old are you?”

The kid looked around, then up at his mother. She nodded. “Nine,” he said.

“Nine years old.” The lieutenant crouched slightly, looking him in the eye. “Isn’t that a bit old to be hiding behind your mother?”

CC-2224 tensed. Please, if there was any mercy in the galaxy, let the child keep his mouth shut. He looked at the mother, saw her stricken and ashen expression.

The lieutenant smiled at the boy. “Not much one for words, eh?”

“You have to leave.” The waitress held her ground. She was terrified – the plates rattled in her hands – but she remained firm. “You’re scaring my son.”

The lieutenant reached out and patted the boy’s head. “Of course,” he said lightly. “My apologies if we caused you any trouble.”

The waitress watched while they packed up, distrust showing in her blue eyes. Nobody made any effort to settle the bill but she did not mention it. 

The clone commander was the last to leave. He lingered in the doorway, watching his team mount their speederbikes, and glanced back. The waitress was kneeling, picking up the broken plates, and set them down on one of the tables that was still upright. Then she slowly crumpled into a chair. Her hands shook when she pressed them to her eyes.

A feeling stirred in the clone’s chest – something he had not felt in a long time. It moved him to step back inside, towards the woman.

“Commander,” the lieutenant called, annoyed.

“Hold on,” he called back, “I forgot something.”

She looked up as he approached. Her hands tightened into fists on the tabletop. Her eyes followed him, dark and distrustful.

“Here,” he said, holding out his credit chip. “Enough for the food, and the broken dishes.”

“I don’t want your money,” she said. Her voice – she had a beautiful, soft accent. “I don’t want trouble. Please, just leave.” 

He picked up a chair that had been toppled over, scooting it back where it belonged.

“Please,” she repeated. He saw her eyes glance towards the kitchen, where the boy was still watching. A little girl had joined him, her pale blue skin splotched with human. 

He wanted to say something else to her; as if words could somehow make up for their actions. But he knew they could not, and it was not his right. 

He tapped his visor, a polite salute, and left her there to rejoin his men.

“Making a date for later, commander?” The lieutenant’s voice rose sardonically. “You’re wasting your time.”

 CC-2224 ignored him. “We should move on,” he advised as they made their way towards the speeder bikes parked out front. “There’s no sign of the rebels here.”

But the officer seemed not to have heard. He looked up, directly into the sun slanting from above the treetops. “Let us head back to base camp,” he said. “I have some calls I must make.”

 

\------

CC-2224 roused himself slowly to the sound of his comlink beeping. He looked at the time with some disbelief, and then slapped the thing. “Commander CC-2224,” he said, stifling a yawn behind one fist. Stubble scratched at his hand.

“Good _morning_ , commander.” Strago’s voice drilled like a screw right into his temple. “The lieutenant says we’re moving out in ten.”

He muttered something affirmative and shut off the link. Moving out in the dead of night – why not? It’s not like he would be getting any more sleep anyway. These days the nightmares always stole half his rest. Night after night, the same thing. Images echoed behind his eyelids, stubbornly clinging despite his best efforts to rub them away.

_“Execute Order 66.”_

_And as those words filter through his mind the man that was Cody, as if in response to a switch being flicked, shuts off._

_Cannon-fire and a hailstorm of rocks, and then the Jedi is falling through the air. Only now instead of Kenobi it is Cody who is falling, air rushing past him, seeing the ground shrieking itself closer to swallow him –_  

When he rose to his feet CC-2224 nearly stumbled. Gripping on to his cot, he hissed and dug his knuckles into his leg. The damn thing never seemed willing to obey him. Typical; he used to have the power to command thirty thousand men to battle, and now even his own body didn’t care to take orders from him. His steps towards the fresher were a stumbling sort of hop.

He shaved quickly, a perfunctory action. Most of the time he didn’t even bother looking in the mirror any more; there wasn’t anything interesting to see. The scars that had once stood stark against his skin were beginning to disappear. It had been a long time since he had added any to their ranks.

Maybe it had been finally losing Rex that did it. After the captain had disappeared off into Force-knows-where, maybe he had taken Cody’s ability to care with him.

Or maybe he just didn’t have anything left to bother remembering.

He put on his armor – all white, with only an orange shoulderpad to distinguish his rank. There was to be no personalization of armor whatsoever. Emperor’s orders. The only ones who got away with it were Vader’s Fist, and with their mortality rate, nobody complained at the special treatment. (He had spoken with Appo a few times over the years, and while Appo never talked about what it was like serving underneath Darth Vader, CC-2224 had read the battle reports. He’d seen lists of the 501st’s actions. It read like a ledger of blood.)

 “Good morning, commander,” one of the stormtroopers said when he exited his tent. The moon rose overhead, swollen and overly-bright. He muttered back a bland reply. The rest of the unit sat around, checking weapons or making smalltalk. 

His unit now. 

What an odd-looking bunch they were. Different sizes, different heights – to someone so used to the perfect symmetry of the clone army, these storm troopers looked like a ragged bunch of weeds. Brutish, undisciplined, egotistic thugs. 

CC-2224 despised them all. It wasn’t an active hatred, the kind reserved for a nemesis met upon the battlefield; this was a numb sort of loathing, painting the back of his tongue bitter each time he woke and realized this was his life now.  There were still clone troopers around, but he didn’t work with them any longer. They usually felt uncomfortable in his presence. He had garnered a reputation, a nasty scandal that had attached itself to him like a perpetual stink: Cody, the clone-fucker.

He accepted their hatred as his due penance. What right did he have to complain?

“What’s all this about?” he asked the trooper, only to receive a shrug in response.

“El-tee wouldn’t say. Mentioned something about finally catching those rebel rats tonight, though, so it oughta be good.” 

“Let’s hope,” he responded without any enthusiasm. “Accountability?” 

“All present, sir.” 

“Then move out.” He threw a leg over his speeder bike, kicking it into life, and eased it into position behind the lieutenant’s bike. (Rodrigan? No, that was way off.) Once the whole unit – all fifteen of them – were arranged in a fire team formation, they opened the throttles and rocketed off into the night. 

Sweet air swept past them, bringing with it the scent of harvest and the chorus of insects. Moonlight did not so much shine as wash the landscape in silver.

_Rex would have liked it here,_ he thought to himself, and then frowned behind his helmet.

Why was Rex on his mind so much today?

It had been over four years since he last saw the man. Thinking of him was like prodding an old, decaying tooth. It still stung, but it was such a familiar ache that he hardly even noticed it any longer. Just more background noise to the bizarre unreality that had become existence.

He looked around, and it suddenly clicked.

He had been on this planet before. How had he forgotten that? This had been where Cody had nearly lost the captain. (Well, one of the times, at least. Rex had specialized in near-death experiences.)

The thought brought a smile back to his face. It was such an odd little memory – the mission had been a dismal failure as he recalled, but _Force_ , life had been better then, hadn’t it? He remembered the clone troopers at his back, General Kenobi’s lighthearted offering that _we’ll catch him next time_ , and oh yes, how could he forget the after-party that had resulted in half the unit reporting for duty still hung over in the morning?

How could he forget the sensation of seeing Rex again – beaten and battered but gloriously, beautifully _alive_?

An ache filled his chest, not unlike the feeling of slow suffocation. He had had something, once. A bright and beautiful love that had belonged to him and only him.

But those had been different times. As dark as the Clone Wars had seemed, they appeared in his memory as a glorious age of heroism, of noble men and brilliant deeds. Before the Jedi had turned traitor. Before their own minds had turned against them and they had all, to a man, turned on the Jedi that they had once called friends.

No. This is what he had now. A commanding officer who couldn’t even grow a mustache yet, a mission to a strategically insignificant planet, and a unit that barely paid him lip service.

The lieutenant raised his hand for a halt, and the speeder bikes fanned out across the road.

For a moment, Commander CC-2224 only gazed in slight confusion. They were back at the same village. For the most part, it slumbered; a dozen huts bolted together from whatever scraps could be found or traded from passing trader ships. Only a few lights shone in the shuttered windows. 

CC-2224 killed his bike’s engine, hearing the others follow suit. “I don’t understand, sir. We checked this village yesterday. Why are we wasting our time here?”

The lieutenant shot him an icy glance. “Did the Jedi let you talk back to a superior officer like that?”

He held his words. The bitter, tar-like taste of hatred settled on his tongue.

“You fail to _see_ , commander. These rebels are rats. They hide in the walls, and only their scratchings give them away.” He took gloves from his belt, pulling them on one at a time. “I took the opportunity at our meal yesterday to notice a few things. The woman gave herself away when her brat began to scream. If you noticed, you would see it too – see it in her eyes. She’s a rebel sympathizer.”

_If everyone who ever took offense to a stormtrooper’s presence were a rebel, there’d be no Empire left._ He had the intelligence to say nothing, though.

“I tried being patient with these rural luddites,” the lieutenant continued. “I hoped our presence would be enough to garner compliance. Unfortunately, these rebels have proven themselves stupid in their tenacity. We are forced to take more extreme measures." 

He turned to the men assembled around him. His voice carried on the night wind. “Burn it down. All of it.”

 

\------

They didn’t have flamethrowers, so they made do. Oil and fuel made an excellent reagent once they turned their blasters to it. After that, it was only a matter of letting the conflagration spread.

Waves of heat scorched the air, bright against the darkness. Thick clouds of black smoke gouted skywards. Commander CC-2224 walked through the inferno, hearing the crack of burning tinder and the screams of villagers as they were dragged out of their homes. He looked and felt nothing; just a numb sense of déjà vu. Behind his eyes another scene was playing. An acrid planet, a gun battle, and words ringing in his ears: _E_ _xecute Order 66._

“You seem distracted, commander,” the lieutenant pointed out.

CC-2224 turned his head slowly. “It’s nothing, sir.”

“Ensure it is. I’d hate to think you were losing your touch, commander.” He eyed him meaningfully, adding a silent addition to the statement: _more than you already have._

“Sir!” A pair of stormtroopers came back, hauling between them a Twi’lek woman. The woman dragged her feet, tore at the arms holding her, and yet remained dignified even in her struggle. It was, he realized with some shock, the same woman from the restaurant.

The trooper saluted. “Found this one trying to run, sir.”

 “Well done, TK-8832.” The lieutenant crossed his arms, regarding the woman. Soot stained her clothes and blush-colored skin, turning it dark. Cody felt a sick hollowness in his chest.

“Let me go!” Where yesterday the woman had been stoic, today she seemed to have no lack of words to spare for them. She hurled them like stones. “This is a war crime! I will report this to the provincial governor. All the galaxy will hear about this!" 

“Hello again, madam,” the lieutenant said. He insinuated himself into her space, a dark point against the shimmering gold flames. “I do apologize for any inconveniences. Shame about your restaurant – it had such a quaint charm.”

 “Brutish louts! First you imperials take away my farm, now you burn my home and threaten my children?” She glared at him, refusing to back down. “You deserve everything that comes to you and more." 

The lieutenant leaned closer in. “Listen to me, miss. I know you’re hiding the rebels. Just tell us where they are, and all of this will go away.”

She spat on him. “May the rebels send you all to your deaths!”

The lieutenant reared backwards, his face gone hard and sour. He cursed, wiping at his cheeks with his sleeve. “Commander, I want everything in this village reduced to ash.”

“Sir!” A trooper’s voice hailed them.

The lieutenant looked up, over the woman’s shoulder – and strangely, began to smile. The sight made dread curl slick in CC-2224’s stomach. “On second thought,” he said, “I think I have a better plan.”

 The woman looked back, fear looming pale in her eyes, to see her worst fears confirmed. Strago approached, and each of his hands was gripped tight around the arm of a Twi’lek child.

 At once the woman’s confidence broke. “Let them go,” she said, “Please, I’m begging you-” 

Her words were punctuated by a shriek from the girl. Strago had grabbed one of her lekku and given it a yank. Unnecessary cruelty.

“I’ll give you one more chance.” The lieutenant’s boots gleamed ominously in the fire’s light.The children were screaming. Heat blistered at their skin. “ _Where are the rebels?_ ”

CC-2224 looked around himself, and for the first time in years it felt like something woke in him. Some slumbering part that he had thought dead cracked its eye and took in the scene: a gray-uniformed imperial officer, a handful of stormtroopers with gun muzzles hot in their hands, children screaming, a woman sobbing in the dirt.

_This isn’t right_.

When the woman shook her head with tears streaking her skin, the lieutenant sighed. “Very well,” he said, and even managed to sound sincerely chagrined. “Commander, you heard her. Kill the boy.”

 The woman’s screams sounded only distantly in his ears.

 CC-2224 didn’t move.

 The troopers were watching him, questions in the curves of their empty, blank-faced helmets. The same helmet as the one he was currently wearing.

It felt like Cody had just awoken from a dream, only to find his life in pieces all around him.

He had done such terrible things, in service to the empire. Atrocities so deep they didn’t even have words for them. He had shot rebels. Starved out rebelling populations. Hunted down escapees, leaving their bodies to putrefy in the sun. He had torn children out of their mothers’ arms for the sin of being force-sensitive. And through it all he had nodded and said ‘yes, sir’ and done exactly what they asked of him. A perfect drone. A droid with organic parts. 

He had branded Rex a traitor.

He had killed Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

“Commander,” the lieutenant said, his voice growing fangs, “I gave you an order.” 

The words buzzed and hummed around his ears. Cody approached, blaster drawn, and his footsteps were crackles against the underbrush.

Cody’s mind whirled. When had he stopped being a soldier? When had he become just another faceless cog in the empire’s grinding wheels? When had murdering children become just another order? 

Maybe it was being here, back on this planet, but he felt a familiar presence watching him. Rex was frowning, shaking his head. _Look at what you’ve become._

This armor – white and faceless – it burned his skin. He was no stormtrooper. He was a soldier of the Galactic Republic.

Cody raised his blaster.

As he did he could feel the ghost of fingertips settling on his elbows, steadying his aim. A phantom voice whispered in his ear: _just relax and feel the shot._

Cody’s hand did not tremble. His finger tightened. The gun bucked in his hand. The smell of ozone curled around his helmet like a wreath of smoke.

Before him, the scene had changed: a Twi’lek child staring wide-eyed and terrified up at him, breath shuddering out of his thin chest, while behind him Voss Strago tumbled dead to the ground.

From behind him, he heard a roar of anger. Cody spun. A single shot went straight through the rank on the man’s cap.

He still didn’t remember the lieutenant’s name.

Credit where it was due: it only took the other two stormtroopers five seconds before they opened fire, but by then it was too late. Cody was a clone trooper, trained by the best. Three more shots rang out in the night, and then the final two troopers joined their brethren.

 A strange silence fell over the area. Four bodies lay on the ground; three in white armor, one in a gray imperial’s uniform. And standing over them was Cody, his gun still smoking. A fairly damning sight, all things told.

He pressed his hand to his side, applying pressure to the wound there. It seemed he hadn’t gotten out of this scrape scot-free. He could feel the charred skin there, ragged and torn. Soon it would begin to bleed.

Cody looked at the gun in his hand. Suddenly he couldn’t stand to be holding on to it. He threw it down in disgust. It was only now was beginning to dawn on him how massively, colossally he had just changed his life plans. He was standing over the dead body of his commanding officer. He hadn’t just burned that bridge, he had downright nuked it from orbit. Any moment the remainder of his unit would be arriving, no doubt drawn by the sound of gunfire, and unless he acted quickly this moment of rebellion would certainly be his last.

His first priority was the children and their mother. If nothing else, he would make sure they were safe. Maybe they could escape into the wilderness. After that… he had no idea.

Cody turned to look at the Twi’lek woman – she wasn’t there.

Confused, he spun around. She stood behind him, and in her hands was Cody’s own gun.

The last thing he saw was a flash of brightness – then an electric jolt racked his body, and darkness swallowed him whole.

 

\------

 

The first thing Cody was aware of was the gentle hum of a moving spaceship. For a long, sickening moment Cody thought he was back on the star destroyer, in the hands of imperial interrogators. But the sound of the ship was different, higher in pitch - it would be a small ship, then.

He opened his eyes to discover he was blindfolded. When he tried to move his limbs he felt the heavy weight of resistor cuffs.

 He might very well be in the hands of imperials, after all.

 A cold snake of fear crawled through his guts. He had shot an officer in cold blood. Defied a direct order. He wasn’t sure which one was worse. If the imperials got their hands on him… suffice to say there wouldn’t be much left to throw in the brig.

 He forced his breathing to slow down. Focus. Listen. He had been trained for this. The first step was to not panic.

 “You’re awake,” said a voice. Soft; a woman’s voice. “We’re not imperials, if that’s what you’re wondering. You’re the only imperial agent on this ship.” He sensed the subtle motions of a person closing in; then the blindfold slackened and fell away.

His vision came back in blurs of color and shape. A darkened ship’s cargo area; a deeply tanned woman with blue in her hair. A man stood next to her, arms crossed and frowning.

 Mira,” the man warned.

“It’s fine,” she responded, a bit testily. “He’s completely incapacitated. Suu got him good with that stun blaster.” She stepped backwards, examining him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t think he’s going to try anything, but just in case he does, I still have this.” She patted the gun in her boot holster.

 The man rolled his eyes. “Well, that just makes me feel _so_ safe.”

 Cody began to sit up, and felt a shock run through him.

 “Ray cuffs,” the man threw in his direction. “Only activate when you move. I’d stay still, if I were you.”

 “We usually carry cargo, not prisoners,” the woman explained. “The cuffs are for holding boxes still in transit. Sorry if it hurts.”

 Ah. _Smugglers._ Which could only mean one thing. They were rebels.

 And he was their prisoner.

 The remarkable symmetry of the situation made an ashen smile crack across his face, devoid of pleasure if not of humor. Why not? After everything that had happened now, why not?

Cody sat up very, very slowly, until he was kneeling on the cargo bay’s metal floor. A sore ache shot through his ribs at the motion, but the wound had been bandaged up. He could see the white of bacta bandages through the ragged hole in his bodysuit. Unsurprisingly, he had been stripped of his armor and weapons; save for the resistor cuffs on his wrists and ankles the only thing he had on him was his black bodysuit. They certainly weren’t taking any chances with him.

The rebels – his captors – watched him distrustfully, but neither stopped him from making himself more comfortable.

“If you…” he licked his lips, tasting drought on his tongue, and tried again. “If you were hoping for a bargaining chip, I’m no good to the Empire now. Might as well throw me out the airlock and save yourself the time.” The words shivered across his lips.

“Is that how you imperials show gratitude?” The man regarded him with arms crossed, thoroughly unimpressed. “Suu saved your life. We were going to leave you there, but she insisted we take you.”

Suu. The Twi’lek woman. _So that was her name_ , he thought, and felt vaguely comforted to know it. “Is she here?”

 Mira shook her head. “We already dropped her and the kids off somewhere safe. They’ll be fine. They’re survivors.”

 Yes, he thought to himself, remembering the look in the woman’s eyes. They were. “Then… now what?”

 Mira sighed. She sat on one of the cargo containers that littered the hold. “You’re being taken to one of our strongholds, at the request of our leader. We don’t…” she tilted her head, a furrow appearing between her brows, “ _exactly_ know what to do with you.”

“Is that so?” he responded wryly. It was certainly a familiar sentiment. Story of a clone’s life, really; men without a place in the universe.

 She frowned, looking uncomfortable. “Look, commander-”

“Cody.”

 She paused, a question in the lines of her face.

 “It’s just Cody,” he repeated.

 “Cody,” she said, a little more softly. “You killed your commanding officer. I want to know why. Ephraim thinks maybe you did it for a leg up the promotion system, but something tells me that’s not the reason.”

 “I… don’t know,” he said.

 “Of course you do,” the man interjected. Ephraim. “Nobody just _accidentally_ kills their boss. ‘ _Whoops, clumsy me!’_.”

 Annoyed now, Cody looked at the man. “I shot him because he was trying to shoot me. Is that better?”

 A boot suddenly caught him in the side. Pain exploded in his ribcage.

 “Ephraim,” she scolded. “He wasn’t being a threat.”

 “Look,” Ephraim said, “if it was up to me I’d dump you at the nearest imperial depot and let them sort it out. But the rebel leaders want to talk to you, for some reason. So while you’re on _our_ ship, you’re going to follow _our_ orders, or you’ll be spending this trip somewhere far less comfortable. Understood?”

 “Ephraim!”

 The clone slowly pushed himself back upwards. He didn’t respond, just nodded. He was so very, very tired. He was sick of fighting.  

 Mira put her elbows on her knees. Her gaze on him was scrutinizing.

 “You’re a clone,” she said. As if he could somehow have missed the fact. “Not one of these new ones. You’re a _real_ clone trooper. I know a bit about the clone army. You were the best soldiers this galaxy had ever seen.”

 He nodded. Why did he feel the need to explain himself to this girl? “We were.”

 “My parents were Republic loyalists. They used to tell me about how the clone army and the Jedi were heroes. You used to fight for something good, once.”

 He saw where she was going with this. “You said it yourself: we were good soldiers. And good soldiers follow orders.”

 Mira rose from her perch. She stood over him and her face was impassive, impossible to describe. Her voice filtered down to him from somewhere above.

“But you saved Suu.”

That stopped him cold. He looked down at the cold floor, at the metal and his own legs kneeling against it.

“I did.”

And given the option over, he knew he still would make the same choice. That didn’t scare him.

 What terrified him, what made his blood run cold, was what that meant. The problem was he knew the answer. The answer had been building in him since Order 66. It had taken four years and a Twi’lek woman to make him see it, though.

 It meant that for four years of his life, he had been lying to himself.

 Ephraim cocked his head. Both the rebels were watching him warily, uncertain about this new turn of events. “You got something on your mind?”

 Cody didn’t answer; he couldn’t, because his lungs had frozen inside him. The floor beneath him was cracking like ice.

 A good soldier follows orders, they’d taught him.

 They were wrong.

 A good soldier follows _good_ orders.

 He was a soldier, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew the difference – he had _always_ known. All along he had used his role as a mantra to keep himself blind, to absolve his own guilt. Rex had tried to warn him, so long ago. Fives had warned them and paid for it with his life. The Jedi had… Force, the _Jedi_. They were dead, every one of them. For his own cowardice.

 He had closed his ears and refused to listen.

 Time and time again he had been given these chances – and each time he had closed his eyes and gone along. It was easier to forget. It was easier to ignore. Easier by far to accept orders.

 He had betrayed his masters. Betrayed his own principles.

 Betrayed the one person in the galaxy that had given a damn about him.

 “I’m sorry,” he said, clinging to the thread of the words as the storm of his own guilt howled around him. “I’m so sorry….”

_Force forgive me._

 Mira leaned over, and gently touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

 He bent over, lowering his head because he didn’t want her to see. Couldn’t let anyone see the weakness that burned at his eyelids, the shame that pooled and collected there and ran down his cheeks.

 Mira turned towards Ephraim. Quietly, she took him and headed for the door.

  _Force, forgive me...._

 

\------

The ship settled with the softest bump. The engines stopped, and for the first time in days Cody felt only silence around him. 

“We’re here,” Mira said. The warmth that they had developed over the past few days was gone, replaced by tension in her voice. “Stay put.”

He resisted the urge to ask here where, exactly, he would have gone. He was still locked in the cargo hold, though they had removed the cuffs around his wrists after that first day. They had even made him a fairly comfortable bunk out of cargo crates and spare blankets. All in all, it hadn’t been the worst three days of his existence. 

Of course that was over now. He was once again reminded that he was still an imperial agent, and he was still in the hands of the enemy. They were justified in any punishment they chose to mete.

 Cody sat on the edge of his makeshift cot, taking a long breath. The least he could do was face his fate like a soldier.

 A pneumatic hiss; the cargo bay door slid open, admitting a thin sliver of daylight among the cargo crates that made up his cell. He heard boots on the ramp, at least eight pairs. They were pulling out all the stops for him. Probably not every day they captured a clone commander.

 He heard voices echo inwards from the ramp. “You got him?”

 “In there,” he heard Mira answer.

 And then a group of people – aliens and human alike, united only by the red logo of the rebellion on their uniforms – clustered through the entrance. They fanned out, and through the corners of his gaze he saw the glint of weapons gleaming in each hand (or paw). The formation resembled a firing squad.

 Cody didn’t bother raising his head. He did not need to see the faces of those whom he had persecuted so long. He no longer had the strength for pretense.

 A clawed hand grabbed him by the arm, exposing his inner wrist. A scanner swept the skin there.

 “CC-2224,” a Trandoshan’s voice read off. “It’s him, all right. Someone go tell the boss.”

 Another voice piped up. “He’s already here. Here he comes.”

 Feet shuffled, the line of rebels parting to make way for their superior. Cody closed his eyes.

 He was ready to accept his fate – he even welcomed its absolution. Here, now, was where his story ended.

 It had a certain symmetry to it, didn’t it? For his brothers’ sake – for all those who had followed him, who had believed – he would accept his fate with dignity. It was the least he could do. For Fives, and Echo; for Ponds and Trapper and the hundreds of brothers whose names decorated his skin like a memorial. For the Jedi. For the rebels who had suffered at his hands.

At least now the nightmares would finally end.

Soft footsteps, and then the rebel leader’s feet stopped in front of him.

“Hey,” a voice said.

Cody’s breath stilled in his chest. He knew that voice. He would know that voice anywhere. It was a clone’s voice.  _His_ voice.

Cody dared to look up.

A familiar figure leaned against the stacks of crates, arms crossed. He was looking a bit stockier these days, his muscles gaining the beginning of a middle-aged bulkiness, and without regulations to hold it back his stubble had grown out into a full beard. He had gained a few new scars; a few new tricks as well, it seemed.

Cody’s mouth went dry. It couldn’t be. It was impossible.

He looked up into the rebel leader’s face, into warm hazel eyes and a mouth that curled at the edges (he knew that mouth, its shape, its taste), and oh, it was impossible… and yet.

Rex met his eyes and gently, he smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here, my friends, is where our journey ends. Thank you, for the precious gift of your time and emotional investment. It’s been a wonderful adventure and I’m so honored that so many of you chose to take it with me. Once again, thank you all for your support, and may the Force be with you all.


End file.
